The Story of Tom Brennan

by J. C. Burke

  The option of going back to my own cave and putting the covers over me wasn't a bad one. Maybe I was more like Mum than I realised. Maybe if I went back to the cave then this time I'd never come out. That scared me.

  So to keep my mind off the St John's game, after dinner I wandered down to Brendan's cabin to research stuff for Nepal. It was my job to make a list of everything we needed for the climb, and just looking at the awesome photos of the mountain would be enough to lift my spirits.

  I knocked on the door of Brendan's cabin. I could hear some noise so I opened the door and went in. He didn't know I was standing there, and I couldn't help but watch him.

  Brendan was sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of gin and about five or six picture frames laid out on the coffee table. I could tell by the frames, they were mostly the ones of Daniel.

  The CD he'd been listening to had just stopped. He staggered over to the stereo, pushed a few buttons, then slumped back into the couch, taking a big drink.

  As soon as I heard the start of the music I knew exactly what Brendan was listening to. 'Daniel', the Elton John song Mum used to sing all the time. I hadn't heard her sing or play it the last ten months. I'd forgotten it even existed. But here was Brendan, listening to it, tears streaming down his face as he hugged the bottle to his chest.

  I wanted to creep out the door but I was frozen on the spot. I couldn't move and I couldn't stop watching him. His eyes were shut, as silently he mouthed along with the song, his chest heaving with his sobs. He took another swig of gin and slowly I backed out the door, closing it gently behind me.

  SEVENTEEN

  Monday morning, 5.50 am, I was first at the gate. Yesterday Brendan had kept a low profile, no doubt feeling pretty seedy. It's strange watching someone else cry when they don't know you're there. Especially when you know what their tears are for and what their pain is like. Brendan's tears could've been any of ours.

  If I'd seen Brendan like that even a couple of months ago, I'm sure it would've sent me on a downward spiral. Now, it didn't. I felt bad for him 'cause I knew how much it could hurt, but for the first time it helped me look at everything with a bit of distance. I couldn't help him like I couldn't help Kylie. We were all on our own journeys, and some days the travelling was worse than others.

  I'd gone down to the cabin to stop myself thinking about next weekend's game, but what I'd found there had somehow thrown me into it instead. The St John's game was a hill, just another hill to climb in my journey; then life would plateau for a while. That seemed to be the way it worked. I'd get through Saturday and life would go on.

  If I could look at it like that, maybe I could stop myself from falling into the blackness.

  We were running down the road when, just like that, Brendan said, 'Tom, have you figured out yet Chrissy likes you? I mean, really likes you?'

  He got me straight in the heart. I felt like one of those cartoon characters who's just been whacked over the skull with a hammer. I could almost see the stars circling around my head.

  'Tom?' Brendan chuckled. 'Hello?'

  'Are you sure, Brendan?' The doubting Thomas surfaced. 'I mean, what makes you say that? Do you actually know?'

  'Of course I know,' Brendan answered. 'She talks about you all the time. Tom this, Tom that. Gorgeous Tom. Fantastic Tom.'

  I burst out laughing.

  'You're lucky I haven't shattered her illusions.'

  'Brendan, they're not illusions.'

  'Yeah, mate. Don't get too cocky. Plenty of boys ask her out. If I were you, I wouldn't leave it too long.'

  The good gut-churning kicked into full speed. Where would I take a girl like Chrissy? The movies; the Gold Class cinema where you stretch out on the couches.

  Brendan took a sudden turn off our running track. 'Hey!' I called. 'Where're we going?'

  'No ascent today,' he called back. 'Follow me. I'm going to take you somewhere special.'

  I would've been stupid to think the run was going to be any shorter or easier. We were jogging down plenty of hills, which only meant plenty to climb back up. Maybe this was our new Mount Everest training program. Brendan was in charge of that.

  'Mate, where're we going?' I puffed.

  Brendan kept running.

  Soon the path dropped away and we were ducking and weaving through bushes. The light became speckled and the air cool and damp. The sound of rushing water was getting closer.

  'We're near the river!' I panted, the sweat dribbling into my mouth.

  'One second away,' Brendan answered.

  We hacked through a mat of tangled vines that screened a passage leading to a clearing. There was the water, sparkling through gums that lined the riverbank.

  'My secret waterhole,' announced Brendan, his hands on his knees, puffing gently. 'Hardly anyone knows about it.'

  It was like an annex off the main river, a U-shaped private swimming pool.

  We walked along the bank, our heavy breath echoing across the water.

  'This is awesome, Brendan.'

  'I know.'

  'Do you swing off this?' I tugged at an old frayed rope dangling from a gum.

  'Too old now. I tied that up when I was about ten,' he told me. 'Dan used to swing on it.'

  'You took Daniel here?'

  'Yeah. Fin too.'

  We sat on the bank. The ground was cold and wet, soothing our red, heated skin.

  'When they were about thirteen, I brought them here. Daniel reckoned it was like an initiation for becoming a teenager.'

  'I never came.'

  'This part of the river got infested with that blue-green algae, and I think I just forgot. It was only looking at a photo the other day of Daniel midair on the rope that I remembered I'd never taken you here.'

  That was one of the photos I'd seen on the coffee table in his cabin.

  'Is it okay to swim here now?'

  'Yeah, has been for a while.'

  I sat on a rock, skimming stones across the water's surface. 'One, two, three,' I counted with each 'plop'. Brendan sat next to me, staring across to the other side. It was peaceful.

  'Remember you asked me why I'd stayed at Coghill?' Brendan spoke. 'I said it was complicated.'

  'I remember.'

  'I was going to leave. Jonny and I were both going to leave, move to Sydney. I'd almost convinced Mum to sell the business. We had some good offers.'

  'So why didn't you?' As I said it I realised what the answer was.

  'The accident,' he sighed. 'How could I go?'

  I tried to imagine what it would've been like if Brendan hadn't been around. He helped make us work. He took the pressure off the old man and that helped me. I could cope with Mum falling to bits, maybe I'd expected it. But Dad? If the old man had, then that would've been the end of me too.

  'Thanks,' I murmured.

  'Huh?'

  'Thanks for staying.'

  'Having you around made it easier, Tom.'

  We sat some more, staring quietly at the water.

  'I didn't come here once last summer,' he said. 'Sometimes you feel funny about places that are full of memories. Especially happy memories.'

  'Gran says we've got to leave our ghosts behind.'

  'Yeah, but it was a big sacrifice, Tom.' Brendan's voice grew louder. 'Don't ever underestimate what you've had to do because of something someone else did.'

  I shrugged. If there was one thing I'd learnt, it's that there were no answers.

  'But Mum's right. Don't tell her I said that.' He chuckled for a second then nodded. 'We do have to leave our ghosts behind. They've got nothing to offer.'

  'Brendan, I've been thinking.'

  As always, he said, 'That sounds dangerous.'

  'I want to build Gran a new chook pen and get her some hens and a rooster.'

  'Has she been talking about little Cain and Abel again?'

  'I mean it.' I chucked another stone. This time I counted five skips across the surface. 'But I'll need a bit of help with it. I'm not a bushie
like you.'

  'So I noticed,' he scoffed. 'Well, it's Mum's birthday in September.'

  'I know,' I said. 'The week before mine. We should be able to do it by then.'

  'We?'

  'Come on, Brendan,' I whined. 'I'll get Kylie to help too.'

  'Now, that'd be interesting,' he nodded. 'We'll probably end up with a metal stake in our throats.'

  'C'mon, I'm serious, Brendan. I can't do it on my own. I'm a townie, remember.'

  All week I battled a gutful of nerves. But I never felt alone. The boys were training hard. Tonelli even called extra lunchtime sessions. There were certain moves we had to practise over and over till even I wanted to scream for a rest.

  During the week it seemed the whole team came up to me, one by one, gave me a whack on the back then left, saying nothing. They didn't have to. I understood what their silence was saying and I was grateful.

  The game was to be played in Wurambing, which was exactly halfway between Coghill and Mumbilli. In fact, if you drew a straight line west from Wurambing, you'd hit the gaol at Westleigh. Strange how things connect.

  I was relieved we were meeting in neutral territory. It meant the game wouldn't pull a big crowd. To me, that was one less thing to worry about.

  This was how they organised games between schools in the bush that were labelled 'geographically inconvenient' to one another. Harvey just called it 'the GI'. He talked a lot that week about the 'GI' of St John's to Bennie's. Sometimes I wondered if it was for my benefit.

  Thursday afternoon before training he asked me to help take some sports equipment to the field.

  'Did you know, last year I was invited to take up a position at St Joseph's, in Sydney.'

  'Why'd you turn it down?' I asked.

  'I like it here at Bennie's. My family's settled and I've got to know the boys. Guys like Tonelli and Harrigan I've been coaching since they were in the 15As. They're not the best players in the world, but their heart's in it.' He walked slowly towards the field. 'And next year it looks like I'll be a schoolboy selector for the country area.'

  'Dad was going to do that this year.'

  'Yeah. But we're glad he came to Bennie's instead.'

  Silence.

  'You reckon . . .' I started. 'You reckon there are any of us in the country who'd make the NSW team? Or is the talent in the big city schools?'

  He dumped the bag on the ground and started to sort through the boxing gloves. 'I reckon I'm looking at a fair chance right now.'

  I couldn't deny I was flattered. I was also a bit embarrassed, thinking about how much I'd bagged this guy in my head.

  'I think you're having a pretty good season here,' he told me. 'I remember seeing you play at a district game last July. You played well, but you didn't look as if you were enjoying it.'

  Suddenly I felt like Harvey could see through me.

  I hadn't enjoyed the last season at St John's, that I knew now. It hadn't mattered how good my game was, the pressure, the disgruntlement, the unpredictability of Daniel just didn't add up to good footy. It added up to frustration and division.

  Now I knew differently. Bennie's first fifteen had taught me plenty. When I'd needed it most, Bennie's had reminded me that the game was better when a team was united and loving it. I thought of Dad's words at camp: 'Bennie's is giving you a chance.' And he was right. In many ways, they'd saved my arse.

  Brendan went out to the club, but I stayed down at the sheds till way after sunset. I hosed, swept and scrubbed anything that looked vaguely dirty. I focused hard on the chores, making sure my mind didn't wander.

  I'd checked my emails, 'cause I knew there'd be one from Matt. I was gutless not sending him one first nor replying to his others. Matt and I had been through a lot, not just the accident, we'd shared our childhood. Matt was someone I knew would forgive my silence. And later, after I'd finished school, we could pick up where we left off. Matt was one of those good blokes. He wrote, 'See you tomorrow. Remember we're mates.' Yeah, I knew we were mates. I just wasn't sure about the others.

  I started to pack up, and just as I was pulling down the door of the last shed, I spotted the blue wagon coming down the drive.

  Chrissy wound down the window and waved. 'I was hoping I'd find you down here.'

  'Just packing up,' I answered.

  She got out of the car. 'You want some help?'

  'Nah,' I said. 'Nearly finished.'

  She climbed onto the front of one of the tractors. 'I wanted to see you before tomorrow. I just wanted to tell you, well . . .' I could feel her eyes watching me. 'I wanted to tell you that I'll be thinking of you.'

  'I guess you've got heaps of study.'

  'Oh, no, I'm coming,' she nodded. 'For sure.'

  'At least we're meeting in neutral territory.'

  'You make it sound like a war, Tom.'

  I stopped myself from saying, Well, isn't it?

  'The Wattle Shield was very important in Mumbilli, wasn't it?' Chrissy asked. 'I mean, I know what people can be like about their football.'

  'Too important,' I said, climbing up next to her. 'Making the Wattle Shield was a fluke last year. We only did 'cause Fin played brilliantly that day.' I started talking. That's what she did to me. 'As Fin got older he became a great rugby player. I think he kind of grew into himself. When I saw him sitting up in a wheelchair I realised he must've grown or something, just before. He looked so long and lanky in there.'

  'Does Fin ever talk about it? Like, what it's like.'

  'Not to me. But then I haven't seen him that much lately.'

  'How come?'

  I looked at her. No one had asked me that before. 'How come?' I repeated.

  'Yeah. How come?'

  I sat forward resting my chin on my hands. I didn't speak for a while.

  'It's hard.' I swallowed. 'It hurts. It makes me feel guilty.' There, I'd said it, said what was lurking in the back of my mind. 'Out of all of it, Fin's the hardest. It makes me feel so bad when I think of him. Multiply that by 10,000, and that's what it's like when you're actually there with him, having to speak to him, having to look into his face. Fuck. Poor Fin.' I put my head in my hands. 'And you know the other thing? He's really, really angry. That makes being with him even worse. It's like it's hard to like him.'

  'Tom,' Chrissy whispered. 'I'm sorry.'

  'And here am I, sweating on a stupid footy match.'

  'After my Dad's last stroke, I hated seeing him,' she said. 'He was gross. He couldn't shut his mouth properly. He had to wear these giant bibs 'cause he dribbled so much. I couldn't eat in the same room as him.' She sighed. 'But now he's gone, I really miss him, and I wished I'd spent more time with him.'

  'I know I'll never get used to Fin being the way he is.' I jumped back down to the ground. 'C'mon.' I reached up my hand to her. 'It's getting cold.'

  Harvey gave us the team talk in our dressing room at Wurambing, and next door in theirs, St John's shouted their hungry cry. It was surreal.

  'Boom-a-lacka, boom-a-lacka, green and white. Chick-a-lacka, chick-a-lacka, we will fight . . .'

  Tonelli stood up on the bench, and at the top of his voice said, 'Boys, this is the most important game of the season. We're going to play even better than the best of our ability, because Tom needs us to. Every game, he's done his best on the field for us. So today we're going to show him our appreciation. Aren't we, fellas?'

  'Yeah,' they all cheered.

  Then together, with me almost shouting the loudest, we broke into our cry.

  'Bennie's, Bennie's, we are the red machine.

  Bennie's, Bennie's, the fastest that you've seen.

  To the north, to the south, to the east, to the west.

  Bennie's, Bennie's, put us to the test.

  B-E-N-N-I-E-S, Bennie's, Bennie's, we're the best.'

  My heart pumped hard as I ran onto the field. The familiar green and white jerseys huddled round. But in the stands it was red and white, everywhere.

  For a second I stood completely still,
taking it all in.

  A couple of the St John's boys lamely waved. From the other side of the field Matt gave us a thumbs up. Even from there I could tell his face was strained. It made me want to spew. I tried to smile back, but I could feel the corners of my mouth pulling down.

  'You've done nothing wrong,' I told myself, over and over, as I jumped up and down on the spot. 'Keep your head up. Don't let them get to you. You've done nothing wrong.'

  Tonelli looked psyched as he tossed the coin.

  'We'll take that way.' Tonelli glared at Matt as he pointed towards the grandstand. Matt nodded.

  I watched them shake hands. 'All the best,' Matt said. Tonelli grunted.

  First half was tough but scrappy with a lot of dropped ball. It was nerves that played the biggest part. We all knew this was more than a game.

  We went to the break 9–0 down, but we were doing okay. Jimmy's last-ditch try-saving tackle meant our line hadn't been crossed. His smile was priceless and that lifted my mood.

  Half-time and we were still in it with a hope. Harvey hammered home, 'Stay focused!' Dad didn't say much. I think he was feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing, and he must've known I was too. Like a silent pact we avoided eye contact.

  'Rory,' Harvey instructed. 'Kick it down there, boy, and we'll play it in their quarter. Jimmy, pin your ears back and put pressure on the back three. Let them make the mistakes. They're feeling the strain too.' He clapped his hands. 'You're not out of this, boys.'

  'Forwards, get to the breakdown quicker – and no penalties,' Dad added. 'Dig deep. Bust your guts for the next forty.' Because we're busting ours, I wanted to say for him.

  'Wiseman, you look stuffed.' Harvey handed him a towel.

  'I'm fine, Sir.'

  'Tom?'

  'Yep. Fine.'

  'Good.' Harvey nodded. 'So it bloody should be. I'm proud of you, boys.'

  The second half was more free-flowing, the type of play St John's liked, the ball swinging across the field and from end to end. We held firm. Still no tries.

  Rory kicked downfield. Their full-back knocked on, our scrum twenty metres out. I tapped Gonzales, our lock, on the back. He knew the move.