“And is what makes you happy the same as what makes your friend happy?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it? In the last twenty-four hours, it’s the little things. You can have all the possessions and love in the world, but on your last day on earth, you and your friend will be enjoying the little things. She’d be smiling like you would, holding hands with those she loves, eating delicious food and—”
“She’d probably be screwing her husband,” I muttered.
“Exactly! She’d have sex.” The boy raised his finger in a very “Elementary, my dear Watson” kind of way. “A symbol of love. A smaller version of the whole. A tiny great thing that can end in a marriage, a baby, a life together.”
“If it was sex with a random it wouldn’t be great.” I drew my brows.
“Everyone is random to someone.” He smiled. “Which brings me to my point; until you can appreciate the greatness of opportunity in the small things—and I’m not just talking about sex—you won’t be able to really appreciate the great bigger things that could be heading your way.”
“I don’t have great bigger things.” I turned, and started to tidy a pile of napkins. A light sweat broke out on the back of my neck. Something about this talk made me uneasy.
“You do.” The boy shrugged. “You just haven’t found them yet.”
“God, he’s not getting all Zen on your ass again, is he?” Johnny came swooping into the service area, and all the awkward feelings that were busy swirling and churning their way through my gut dissipated.
“Johnny is a prime example of someone who doesn’t know how to appreciate the little things.” The boy arched an eyebrow at me and swatted his brother’s thigh with a rolled up tea towel.
“That’s because me and the word little don’t tend to go hand in hand.” He laughed, and faux punched his brother in the stomach. “Don’t scare Kate off, bro. I really want her to be our new employee.” Johnny smiled, and I felt my body relax. Weird spiritual talks aside, I’d nailed it. I guess that meant I’d gotten the job.
“Yeah, yeah.” The boy nodded and shrugged the whole thing off. Something about their brotherly camaraderie made me comfortable. It wasn’t stiff and terse, as things were with my family at the moment. In fact, with their over-the-top joking, there was barely a formal moment. They’d been through the ultimate tragedy, but their family bond was strong.
Why couldn’t I be more like that?
The shift continued much in that fashion, the two boys laughing and teasing until Johnny excused himself when the last customer walked out, saying he had a counselling appointment to go to.
“So, what’s next?” I asked. The café was empty and the streetlights had started to flicker on. Dark shadows spread across the room.
“Well, usually I stack the chairs then wash the floors.” The boy lifted a chair up and stood it on the table, placing another upside down on its seat.
I watched him do one table, then start on a second. After a while he tilted his head at me, a puzzled look on his face.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope.” I shook my head and leaned back against the counter.
“You just don’t feel like helping?”
“You didn’t say we do it. You said that’s what you do. So, I’m watching.” I folded my arms and flashed him a cheeky grin of my own. It felt good to get some back, after their teasing earlier in the day.
“You like to watch?” He walked over to the door and flicked the Open sign to Closed. He flashed a look back at me over his shoulder and I was glad for the counter’s support. Otherwise, I don’t know how well my knees would have handled the hot flush that momentarily weakened them.
The boy approached, taking long, deliberate steps toward me. He cleared the café in an agonising thirty seconds and I took in his tall, lean body, the olive toned skin, the glasses that screamed kind of nerdy but cute, and how they amplified the deep intent in his eyes.
“I’m glad you came in for the trial.” His face was inches from mine. My heart pounded against the walls of my chest, busting to get out of my ribcage.
Was he going to kiss me? Was this really happening?
I licked my lips, and felt the heat of his breath on my face. He smelt like coffee, and outdoors, and man.
I thought about how his lips would feel, how his body would feel, how I wanted it pressed up against me. I’d never felt this sort of attraction with Dave. Maybe that was because we were meant to be just friends.
Friends. Because that’s what me and this boy were. And all because of who and what my life had become.
There was no point trying to pursue something with this guy when, once he knew the truth, it’d all be over. He seemed to be okay with Dad on a surface level, but when he found out about the hereditary nature of the disease and how much worse Dad was going to get, I doubted he’d stick around. For crying out loud; he wouldn’t even tell me his name. How likely was it he’d be accepting of Huntington’s?
“Yeah. It’s great Johnny likes me, and seems to want me back.” My voice was light and airy. I pushed off the counter and walked over to the nearest table, stacking the chairs in a mirror image of what I’d just seen him do.
“Yeah. I’d say he does for sure.” I couldn’t look at his face. I didn’t want to see if he was hurt or—worse—completely unaffected. I didn’t want to see him at all, not while I was so damn confused.
“You can take off now, Kate.” I turned to him, and he nodded to the door. “I’ve got the rest of this.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I walked over to the door and paused there for a second, unsure if I was doing the right thing.
“Kate?”
“Yes?” I spun around at lightning speed.
He was there, right behind me, incredibly close. I had no idea how he’d moved so fast, but his broad shoulders were suddenly at my chin level, the muscled lines of his arms visible beneath his shirt.
I slowly let my eyes roam up his body, across his chest and over his rigid jawline, over the little freckle on his cheek and deep into his chocolate eyes that were staring into mine, staring through me, like he could see every little secret I’d ever kept.
Don’t look at his lips, Kate. Do not look at his lips.
I let my eyes flick down to his lips and saw they were slightly parted and wet. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and a shiver ran down my spine.
Maybe it would be worth it after all. Maybe he’d be different.
Maybe he wouldn’t call me or my family members crazy.
“Lachlan.” His lips formed the word.
“Pardon?” I was jerked out of the moment, my eyes snapping back to his. I’d been about to kiss him, even after I’d decided not to earlier. I was—what was wrong with me?
The heat of embarrassment warmed my cheeks again, and I wanted to melt in a puddle on the floor. Why would I have thought he liked me? Why would I look at his lips, for crying out loud?
He was telling me his name. Not trying to make out with me.
Probably what he was doing before.
“My name is Lachlan,” he said softly.
“I …” I gave an awkward wave of my hand. “I have to go.”
I spun on my heel and ran out the door.
Chapter Fourteen
“I BET you didn’t expect to see me back so soon.” I settled myself into the tiny chair opposite Leslie’s. I wondered whether she had any larger patients and, if so, if they fit in between the narrow, black arms. Maybe that was one of the side effects of having a family member with a disease: weight loss. Gosh, it’d be every female’s dream.
“How are you today, Kate?” Leslie ignored my glib comment and smiled at me, hands laced gently over her knee.
“Okay.” I shrugged. Torrents of water bucketed down. They coated the window, and blurred the world outside.
“Have you spent much time with your father?”
“You know.” I shrugged aga
in. At this rate, my shoulders were going to get a workout, too. The Huntington’s Diet: good for weight loss and shoulder muscle building.
“No, I don’t.” Leslie’s smile never faltered. Maybe the Counsellor’s Diet involved strong cheek muscles. “When did you last spend time with him?”
I racked my brain, cataloguing the last few days in my mind.
“Yesterday, I guess,” I said. “At dinner.”
“And what did you talk about?”
I forced my brain to try and remember the mundane events of dinner the night before.
“I had a job trial a few days ago, so Mum asked how that went.” I bit my lip. “And we talked about the medication Dad was on.”
“What about how your father was feeling?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you talk to him at all about his feelings, and the emotions he was going through?”
“Not really.”
“What about you? Did you share your feelings and emotions with him?”
“It was family dinner, not a counselling session,” I said. “You asked about the last time we hung out, not the last time we got involved in a deep and meaningful.”
“Well, when was that?”
Silence.
I smiled. For a moment I was worried I’d have to say before it all, back when he was still my father and not this stranger living in our house. I was fairly certain that would be the wrong answer.
“A week ago he told me he thought a boy liked me.”
“That’s nice.” Leslie nodded encouragingly. “And what did you say in return?”
“That he probably didn’t.” I thought back to the flash that had darkened Lachlan’s eyes when he’d walked toward me at the end of my shift, the way he seemed to see straight through me and melt my insides.
“Was that an honest answer?”
“Yes,” I replied quickly. Because once Lachlan knew the truth, it would be.
“And how do you feel about that? Didn’t you and your boyfriend break up a few weeks ago?”
I exhaled, a long stream of air coming out of my nose. I stared at the water on the window again. I could only see the shape and shadow of the tree outside. No definition at all.
“It still hurts,” I admitted. I gripped my hands together and gave one of my wrists a light pinch. “But I think I’d stopped—stopped loving him a long time ago. I was with him because it was easy, not because it was right.” The words rang true as they left my mouth. “And thinking of him—it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as all this.” I raised my arm limply then let it drop. Sometimes it all seemed so big and overwhelming and scary.
“You’re allowed to hurt.”
I stared out the window again. I didn’t need her permission to be sad. Oft times, all I felt was the weight of this oppressive sadness hovering over me. Even when I smiled with Stacey, even when I’d laughed with Johnny, it was still this niggling itch in the corner of my mind I just couldn’t let go of.
Sometimes, the sadness is everything.
“How do you cope when it all gets too much?” It was like she’d read my mind.
“I don’t know,” I choked out. “Sometimes I can almost forget about it, get lost in a moment. Then I remember and it’s sad again.”
“What do you do then?” Leslie’s face softened from one-thousand-megawatt smile to something more half-hearted. It was like someone turned down the sun.
“Nothing, I guess.” I thought of the night I’d watched movies to forget, then the time I’d turned to a fortune teller to predict my future, then the time I’d kicked my toe to feel pain, to feel release.
Yes.
That.
“You must do something,” Leslie pressed.
“Well … sometimes I just do something else,” I said.
“To forget?”
“More to push it away.”
“You know, forgetting this problem, pushing it away, isn’t going to make it any easier,” Leslie said. I steepled my hands at the bridge of my nose and shook my head. Why was this all so hard? What did she want me to say?
“Well, what’s the right answer, then? Tell me, and I’ll say it back.”
“This isn’t a test.” Leslie’s voice was level as ever.
“Then why do I feel like you’re constantly judging me?”
“Kate, I promise you I am not judging.” She shook her head. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. It was never my intention.”
I stared out the window again. It was becoming my solace, my escapism from the intense questions that constantly spewed forth from her mouth. I thought of the old man I’d seen walking through those gardens the other day. Was he not walking today because of the rain? Or had something happened? Was he no longer walking because he was no longer able to?
“Let’s talk about why you’re here,” Leslie said. “You want to get tested, so I’ve printed out the two referrals, one for the neurologist, the other the psychiatrist.” Leslie grabbed two sheets of paper from the printer and handed them to me.
I looked at the papers like they were made of fire.
“You do want to get tested, right?” Leslie’s eyebrows were raised.
“Sure,” I agreed. It made sense. I should get tested. There was no reason for me to not get tested.
Was there?
“You’re not very convincing.” Leslie gave a wry smile. “There’s no rush, you know. I want you to keep seeing me through the process, regardless. And remember; you don’t have to get tested just because there’s a possibility the answer will be yes.”
“More like a probability.”
“A possibility,” Leslie corrected.
We lapsed into silence again.
“Do you want to get tested?”
I thought back to the morning when I’d discussed it with Mum. Then I thought about everything else—my life. “Yes.”
“Why do you want to get tested?”
“I feel like we’ve been through this.”
“Indulge me.” Leslie tilted her head to one side.
“Because until I know, I feel like I don’t know how to plan my life. Whether I should pursue a career, date boys—God, I don’t even know if I should take out private health insurance.” I gave a bitter laugh.
“Well, there’s an easy one.” Leslie gave a soft laugh. “You should get private health cover, Huntington’s or no.”
“Gee, thanks for solving that.” I rolled my eyes. “Sorry,” I added. I hadn’t meant to be so rude.
“Did you book this appointment, Kate?”
She already knew I hadn’t.
“No,” I indulged her.
“Your mum did?”
“My mum.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought I wanted to get tested,” I started, “and I do. Like I said. I’m pretty sure it makes sense. Otherwise I’m just floating in nothing.”
“And she didn’t book you in because she thought you could use some support?”
More silence. We were getting very good at it.
“If you have it, what will you do?”
“I’m pretty sure I have it anyway. I flipped a coin. And a fortune-teller kinda told me …”
“A fortune-teller told you?” Leslie’s hand slapped down on her desk. Her face contorted into a mixture of shock and anger, the two least controlled emotions I’d ever seen her display.
“Well, not exactly,” I back-pedalled. “But she heavily implied it. Said there would be sad times ahead for me and my family, knew there was something wrong with my dad’s head …”
“Is that why you want to get tested? Do you feel like your chances are higher than fifty per cent?”
Yes. Absolutely.
Part of me feels like it’s almost guaranteed.
“No,” I lied. “I know the statistics.”
“You do,” Leslie agreed. “Although something tells me you’re not trusting them.”
I didn’t reply. The sound of her clock ticked by and the
whir of the fan, despite the torrential rain outside, created a steady, deafening buzz. The background nothingness was all consuming.
The skull on her desk stared at me and I was fairly certain it mouthed the word sprung.
Chapter Fifteen
I STOOD under the building’s awning, waiting for a gap in the rain before I ran to the parking lot. It was a two-hundred-metre dash from the care unit, and I just didn’t have anything important enough to rush home for on a Friday night. Stacey was out on another date, and Mum and Dad were home having Chinese takeaway.
If I were on tour, I’d be in Melbourne right now.
The thought was in my head before I could stop it, then all I could think about were the things I wasn’t doing. I wasn’t forging a career. I doubted I’d even get another shift at the café, after running off at the end of my trial.
I wasn’t watching my boyfriend make it to the top. I wasn’t hanging out with Lee Collins, networking with Coal’s manager, trying to organise an internship or more joint events. I hadn’t even lost my virginity.
I was a great big loser with no Friday night plans and no foreseeable future.
Happy Friday to me.
“Whatcha doing?” I was so stuck in my own mind I jumped what felt like a foot in the air when I heard Lachlan’s voice. What was he doing here? What were the odds of him having an appointment around the same time as mine again? And why didn’t he run out in the rain and pretend not to see me, when that was clearly the appropriate thing to be done in this situation?
“What do you think?” I snapped, because it seemed safest.
“Looks like you’re being afraid.” Lachlan stepped up beside me, gazing out at the rain-drenched grass before us. “You know, it’s just a little rain.”
“A little?” I raised my eyebrows, gesturing at the sheets of water that were falling from the heavens. “You call this little?”
“I’m not going to make a joke about the size of my penis right now.” Lachlan winked at me. I fought with my face to keep my lips straight. It wasn’t even funny. And I hated boys who made dick jokes like that. Even though he’d only made a joke about making one.
The Problem With Crazy Page 12