The Story of Tom Brennan

by J. C. Burke

  'God, no!' Mum waved the idea off. 'This'd be the last thing she'd expect. Besides, she never comes down to this part of the garden anymore, no need.'

  I poured the drink down my throat. 'Thanks, Mum.' I handed her back the cup, giving her a 'time to go now' look.

  'Well, be careful cutting the wire.'

  'God, she's thin,' Chrissy whispered as Mum walked back up to the house.

  'She was thinner.'

  'And pale.'

  'Sun-tanned compared to even a few weeks ago.'

  'Did she really not get out of bed?'

  'Yeah,' I answered. 'I mean, she'd get out to piss and stuff, but after Daniel went away she pretty much only got up to visit him.'

  'That's . . . awful.'

  'It was weird. It got to a point where I felt like I hardly knew her anymore. She didn't look like Mum. She didn't smell right.' I shook my head. 'It was pretty bad for a while. But you know what's weirder? Now she's up and getting back to normal, it's kind of hard to remember what she was like then.'

  'That's probably a good thing,' Chrissy said. 'My dad used to say the sign of a healthy mind is someone who can get over it and get on with it.'

  'Nah, I reckon it's because I sort of didn't see her as a person.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, I saw things, not her.'

  'Like?'

  'Like the greys in her hair, or the way her breath stunk and the room smelt of piss and b.o. Once I walked past her room; she was out to it and the sheet had slipped off the bed. All I saw were her toenails. They were so long they'd curled up on the ends. It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen. Well – not quite.'

  'Do you think she'll be okay?'

  'I hope so. It's made a difference, especially to Dad.'

  'I bet.'

  'I'm a bit nervous about next week,' I told her. 'It'll be the anniversary. One year since the accident. Feels like about a thousand.'

  'Will you do anything?'

  'Hide.'

  'I'll hide with you.'

  'Matt told me Mumbilli is having a big service in the bush, where it happened. There's like a memorial there where people put flowers and stuff.'

  'You won't go?'

  'I didn't even go to their funerals.'

  She nodded.

  'I've never been back there. I mean, to that spot.' I heard my voice shake. 'Too scared.'

  Chrissy lay on the grass next to me. She picked up my hand, linking her fingers through mine. We stayed like that for a while looking at each other.

  'What are you thinking about?' she finally whispered, her lips brushing against my palm. 'You're thinking bad things, aren't you? Tell me, Tom.'

  'I was thinking about the ghost gums and the way they looked that night in the bush. The headlights on Dan's car were shining on them. It was like their silver trunks went all the way up to the stars.'

  'You must've been so scared.'

  'Beyond scared,' I swallowed. 'You know, Fin thanked me the other day.'

  'Did he?'

  'He said, "Mum told me you stayed with me all night. That you wouldn't leave my side." And then he said, "Thanks."'

  Touching his hair, sticky with blood, whispering to him, 'It's okay, Fin,' were my last memories of the Fin I knew.

  'What else?'

  I looked at Chrissy and shook my head.

  'Please, Tom,' she squeezed my hand. 'I need to know these things about you.'

  It's strange the things you remember.

  'The taste in my mouth as the dawn came,' I started. 'It was that dirty-sock taste you get after a late night. I was so thirsty. I remember that really clearly, and my eyes and my head. The way they ached when the sun started coming up. It was a brilliant orange ball, and the clouds were so pink. And of course Fin, his voice, and his scared little eyes as they cut him from the car.' I swallowed hard. 'Fuck. Why am I talking about this?'

  ''Cause it'll always be with you,' Chrissy whispered to me. 'You've got to talk about it.'

  'Why me? Why us? I don't ask that anymore.'

  'I used to feel like that when Dad got sick and all the other fathers would be at the netball except mine.'

  'Yeah?'

  'Yeah,' she smiled. 'But you get used to it.'

  'And you know what?' I said. 'You get sick of feeling bad all the time.'

  The chook pen was finished. We bought three hens and a rooster, and on the morning of Gran's birthday, September 9th, we blindfolded her and led her outside. Kylie wanted to spin her around as well but I said that was overdoing it a bit for an old lady.

  'Where are you taking me?' she hollered. 'I don't like surprises.'

  'Come on, Carmel,' Dad chuckled. 'Have a bit of faith in us.'

  'Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I can't breathe through this scarf.'

  'Mum, your nose and mouth aren't covered.'

  'Theresa, you know I don't like enclosed spaces. I think I can feel a panic attack coming on.'

  'Gran,' Kylie squealed. 'You're outside in the open.'

  'Maybe you are, girly. But I'm in the dark behind this, this . . .'

  'Da daa,' Brendan sang as Kylie pulled down the blindfold.

  'Happy Birthday!' we shouted.

  Gran stood there, her mouth open. 'My,' she finally said. 'My, my.'

  'What do you think, Gran?' Kylie laughed. 'Do you like it?'

  Gran looked at me with mist in her eyes, then winked. She walked towards the wire.

  'Brrkk, brrkk,' she crooned. 'Brrkk. Brrkk.' She opened the gate of the chook pen. 'Brrkk, brrkk. Brrkk, brrkk.' She knelt down, picking up the rooster. 'Brrkk. Brrkk.' She smoothed his feathers over and over. 'I think I'll call you Harvey,' she crooned. 'Because Saint Harvey was famous for his miracles.'

  Suddenly the rooster squawked, giving us all a fright. 'Oh, be quiet,' Gran scolded, 'or you'll be named Benedict, patron saint of bachelors. See how you like that, young man?'

  NINETEEN

  The fellas were hassling about a party for my eighteenth. Firstly, I don't think they understood what a party at Gran's would be like: light beers, probably a sit-down dinner, and her patrolling the house with a torch in case anyone was up to no good. No, thanks.

  Secondly, I wanted to see Daniel. I hadn't seen him since the weekend after the St John's game. He was good then, and according to Brendan, he was a bit better now.

  Brendan's comment about how we only ever talked about Daniel when we ran didn't stop us. Both of us still felt the need to keep him close, and that was how we did it. It was like watching him grow up, going through his life year by year. Some days it felt as though he could almost be there, running alongside us, being cheeky and playful. Maybe one day he would be.

  Brendan had designed a couple of running tracks for our Mount Everest training. We had to concentrate on building up our stamina, and there wasn't a single hill in Coghill Brendan hadn't found. The runs were hard and you hurt like hell but it was worth it.

  I looked good, too. Not like one of those emaciated runners you see on the TV. That was 'cause I couldn't stop eating. Even Gran's dinners were starting to taste okay. The other night I had three helpings of her soggy meatloaf. You should've seen her smile.

  My chest and arms had become so firm you could crack a nut on them. Chrissy loved telling me how sexy they were, and I loved hearing it. In my books, that was enough reason to suffer.

  My legs and breathing were strong; running up 'the ascent' was almost a piece of cake. At least, I didn't feel like spewing when I got to the top.

  The run to the waterhole was my favourite. September was warm, and one morning Brendan and I stripped down to our boxers and jumped in the river.

  The water was cold and fresh. Somehow it felt full of promises. I could feel summer coming, and I pictured Chrissy and me lying on the river rocks, soaking up the sun like lizards.

  'I reckon it'll be a hot summer,' Brendan said, floating on his back, staring up at another cloudless sky. 'A real scorcher. The cicadas are singing already.'

 
'Yeah, well, now I know your secret, I won't have to go to the toxic Coghill pool.'

  'They're pretty heavy-handed on the chlorine there,' Brendan said.

  'So my eyeballs discovered.'

  I floated on my back, thinking of the time I saw Chrissy at the Coghill pool: how I watched the drops of water slide down her back, and how she turned around and whispered, 'How's your grandad?', pushing me into my fears and darkness. Back then it didn't take much. Now, I only thought of the drops sliding down her skin.

  'Are you coming with me to see Daniel this weekend?' Brendan asked me. 'Even though it's your birthday.'

  'It's my birthday on the Sunday, and anyway, big deal, it's just another birthday.'

  'What did you do last year again?'

  'It was the week after Daniel's hearing in the local court. The same week Kyles and I went back to school.' I swam towards the riverbank and pulled myself out of the water. 'Wasn't really a birthday to remember, that one.'

  'You know, Tom, I never thought I'd say it, but Daniel's come a long way since then.'

  'Yeah.'

  'It was a bloody godsend we got him into the Crisis Centre. I can't even think about what could've happened if we hadn't.'

  'So he's really into this mentoring stuff?' I asked.

  'You'll hear all about it,' Brendan warned me. 'Daniel's mentor, the older bloke, Jerry, helps him mentor Theo, the other boy in there on a drink-driving charge who isn't doing so well.'

  'Yeah, I've met him.'

  'Poor bastard. He's quite a few steps behind Daniel.'

  'Do you reckon Fin really will go and see Daniel?'

  'He's talking about it. So is Aunty Kath.' Brendan was tying up his trainers. 'But honestly, I think they're still wrapping their heads around how to transfer Fin from a wheelchair to a bed.' Brendan stood up. 'It's going to be a long slog there, Tom.'

  'He says he doesn't hate Daniel.'

  Brendan shook his head. 'God knows why.'

  Daniel, his dark moods, his jealous rages, his long periods of brooding and his complete lack of accountability: he took so much from so many.

  We started the run back home, the hard part. It wasn't steep like 'the ascent'. Instead, it was a sequence of small- to middle-sized hills. The distance was further, that's what made it a little killer.

  'It looks like we'll have a few days in Kathmandu before we fly to Lukla.' The day I could run and chat like Brendan would be the day I knew I was really fit. 'The trek starts from there. It's a gradual climb, which means we acclimatise on the way.'

  'No "falling off mountain" stories, please,' I panted. 'I've been avoiding them.'

  'The trek we're doing is graded tough, not superman,' he said. 'No ice-picks required.'

  'Don't worry, I've done my research.'

  'Kalar Pattar, which is where we go, is about 5,500 metres high. Awesome, eh? Imagine the sunrises.'

  'I worked it out,' I puffed. 'It's almost twelve and a half weeks till we're there.'

  'And counting,' Brendan said. 'What about Chrissy? You'll miss her, won't you.'

  'Yeah, but she'll be here when I get back.'

  'She will. They'll all be waiting for you.'

  The day before my eighteenth birthday, 376 days since the accident, Mum, Brendan and I drove to Westleigh.

  I could almost do the checkpoints with my eyes shut: name, approved visitor, belongings on the table, locker key, stand with your arms by your side, arms on top of your head – blah blah blah.

  Daniel's hair was growing and his face had filled out a bit, but it didn't stop the punch in the guts I still felt every time I saw him in the regulation green tracksuit. Maybe it was my way of fighting acceptance, 'cause I could never think of Daniel as a prisoner.

  Regardless of what Daniel did and what an up-himself, selfish dickhead he could be, he was my brother. He was the one who taught me how to kick and pass, how to raise my eyebrow, how to ride a bike, how to piss high up a wall, how to skip stones, how to drive Kylie crazy. Every memory I had, Daniel was etched into it.

  Daniel didn't die that night and he didn't become a cripple. So many times, even now, the 'what ifs?' played with my head. What if Daniel had died? What if Daniel had ended up a vegetable, never able to move again? It made me sick to the guts. But another question always surfaced after that one, another one I battled with almost more. Was it so bad to be happy that my brother lived, knowing what he did that night was so unforgivable? Was it?

  As always, Daniel's eyes lit up when he saw us.

  'Hey, bro. Brendan. How're you doing?'

  'Hey, mate,' we said, sitting down.

  'Where's the old girl? They said she was here too.'

  'She's got an appointment with the social worker,' answered Brendan.

  'Yeah, good old Mrs Kumar.' He smiled. 'What would Gran call her, a saint who just had her gods mixed up?'

  We shrugged.

  'Hey, happy birthday, Tommy.'

  'Yeah, thanks.'

  'You doing anything?'

  'Bit of a quiet dinner, I think.'

  'With that sexy girlfriend I keep hearing about?'

  'Piss off,' I groaned. 'What've you been telling him, Brendan?'

  'Nah, it was Kylie.' Daniel shook his head and chuckled. 'She gave us the goss.'

  'See!' Brendan threw up his arms. The guard turned suddenly.

  'No hassles,' Daniel said to him. The guard nodded but kept his eyes our way.

  'So, what's been happening here?' I asked.

  Daniel scratched his chin, a cheeky smile sneaking onto his face. 'Oh, let's see. We had a bit of a time last night with a string of hookers the screws shouted us, and, oh, yeah, the night before we got stuck into the booze and . . .'

  'Yeah, all right,' I said. Brendan was pissing himself.

  'I'll tell you what did happen,' Daniel said to us. 'Owen visited the other day. Special allowance. I nearly died when I heard he was here. Every letter, he kept saying he was going to come.' Daniel paused. 'But – you know, you don't really expect them to.'

  'Did it go okay?' asked Brendan.

  'Yeah. I was glad I didn't know before, 'cause I would've shat my pants. Jerry, you know, my mentor, he says often they're the best visits, the ones you're not expecting. Less time to get uptight.'

  'I didn't see Owen at the St John's game,' I told Daniel. 'I know he's helping coach. I s'pose it was a long way to go for a game against Bennie's.'

  'He was there,' nodded Daniel. 'And he saw you.'

  'Really?' My brain had registered the bare minimum that day.

  'He couldn't believe how much Bennie's had improved. He thought it was probably 'cause they had you and Dad. I said, what do you reckon, you mullet, Tom'd make any team look good. Isn't that right, Brendan?'

  'Yes, mate. Tommy had a blinder.'

  'So Owen told me. See, Tom never tells me none of that stuff. You just said the game was okay. So I've got to imagine it, 'cause I'm not there with you.' For a couple of seconds Daniel looked at me.

  'What?' I said.

  'I'm proud of you. Is that okay, you turkey?'

  Mum was escorted in.

  'Darling,' she said, squeezing Daniel's hand. 'Doesn't he look well, boys?' she said to us.

  'Yeah.' We nodded like little kids.

  'Mrs Kumar says you're going great.' Mum pulled the seat up close to Daniel. The guards ignored it; they were used to her. Even though she looked atrocious to us, she was still pretty compared to most of the females around here. 'She says you're doing an excellent job with Theo.'

  'It's going pretty well, Mum.' Daniel sounded serious but pleased with himself.

  'I think finally Jerry and I are starting to get through to him.'

  'That's wonderful.'

  Daniel smiled, his blue-grey eyes like Mum's lighting up his face. Sitting there, watching him chat away, it was hard to believe these were the eyes that had flashed such uncontrollable rage and hatred that night. That these eyes belonged to the person who did such a terrible thing.


  For my birthday dinner, Gran cooked roast pork. This time she got it right, with crackling that wasn't pure charcoal. Mum made her special apple sauce that we hadn't had for at least a year. Dad bought some champagne. Kylie decorated the table with flowers and candles. Chrissy made a chocolate mud cake, and Jonny brought these dickhead party hats with streamers coming out the top. Chrissy kept blushing, saying we didn't have to wear them if we didn't want to. But after a while it was funny. Especially seeing as Gran wore hers back to front the whole night without knowing.

  The heavy drapes on the windows were pulled back to let in the evening breeze. Gran's gallery of saints watched over us, but tonight I reckon they were smiling. They may have even been thinking, 'What a nice family.'

  The pressies were good too. Kylie gave me a cool beanie. Brendan and Jonny gave me an awesome pair of gloves for Nepal. Mum and Dad put a cheque for two hundred dollars in a card that read, 'To Our Darling Middle Child.' (I hated the way Mum called me that. It made me feel like some fringe dweller.) 'You are very special and we are so proud of you. We hope your trek in Nepal is wonderful. You have already proved to us you can climb mountains. Love Mum and Dad xx.'

  Chrissy bawled her eyes out when she read it.

  In private, she gave me a travel diary. Each day I'd be away she'd written me a message. All kinds of things, like, 'Have you brushed your teeth?', 'Are you wearing clean undies?', 'Are you wearing undies?', 'Fifteen days till I see you,' and 'I love you, Tom Brennan.'

  'Happy Birthday,' everyone cheered, their glasses in the air. I felt my eyes scrunch and my cheeks stretch, I was grinning so hard.

  After everyone had gone home or to bed, Gran called me into her room.

  'I've got something for you,' she said. 'I didn't forget.'

  Birthday socks. That's what it always was.

  She was sitting on the bed shuffling through a box. 'Here it is.' She pulled a small card out from under some papers. When she held it up I saw it was one of her holy cards.

  I must've pulled a face of horror.

  'Oh, this isn't for you,' she said, scribbling 'Father Vincent' on an envelope. 'I'm not that foolish.' She slipped the card inside. 'Okay, that's done.'

  'Who was it?'

  'A saint,' she answered.