Everything is Changed

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Everything is Changed Page 16

by Nova Weetman


  ‘Do you want to see her?’ says Sass, her face red and blotchy.

  I don’t have a choice.

  I nod, and she takes my hand and leads me down a corridor where I can hear other animals snuffling and moaning and barking. We reach a room right down the back. I see Mum through the square of glass at the front and she doesn’t look like she normally does. Her hair is messed up. And she’s not wearing any lipstick.

  Sass pushes the door open and I see Lottie lying on the silver bench, lying like she’s asleep.

  Mum holds out her arms, awkward. ‘Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,’ she says, trying to make it seem like we hug all the time.

  ‘Not your fault, Mum.’

  I dodge the hug and step closer to Lottie. She’s been cleaned up but she doesn’t look right. Her limbs are positioned oddly like she’s not real.

  ‘We’ll leave you,’ says Mum.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, suddenly panicked at the idea of being here alone with dead Lottie.

  But Mum smiles a sort of understanding smile, obviously thinking that I want time alone, and pulls Sass along with her.

  Once the door’s closed, the room feels even smaller, and I wonder how long I have to stay here before I can escape. It smells like methylated spirits and cleaning products, which masks any smell of Lottie. I was supposed to give her a bath. She was so stinky and I hadn’t washed her since we moved. I should have washed her.

  I know I should go to her and touch her or pat her or something but I don’t want to. I just want to get out of here.

  I can see her collar peeping out from her furry neck, and before I can even think about what I’m doing, my hand has snaked out and touched her back. Her skin doesn’t shiver like it normally does. I try to think of Lottie curled up on my bed but I can’t. She’s dead. That’s it.

  It’s over.

  jake

  There’s been nothing in the news for weeks. No reports of anything about Peter Waterman, so I’m assuming that’s a good thing. He hasn’t died. Nobody has come forward with any evidence. And as far as I know he’s still in a coma in a city hospital, in a stable condition. Alex wanted me to ask Mum if she knew anything, but the hospital she’s at is just some local suburban place. It’s not like she’d have any insider knowledge.

  I keep hoping to read that he’s made a full recovery, or that they’ve discovered what happened on the freeway that night and that it had nothing to do with us. But it’s like it never happened.

  I rang the hospital last night. Pretended I was a family member, a nephew who wanted to know how he was. But the nurse sounded really suspicious and wouldn’t tell me anything. I have been considering turning up one day, and seeing if I can get myself in to see him, but what if they take one look at me and know instantly that I am the reason he is there?

  I keep trying to talk to Alex about it, but he won’t discuss it anymore. He told me that he thinks it’s for the best if we just pretend it never happened. I know he’s scared. His father would kill him if he found out what we’d done. And Alex has always had it pretty easy. He’s not really used to things derailing.

  But I’m not sure how to pretend it didn’t happen. Even if I survive a whole day and don’t think about it once, then Peter Waterman visits me in my dreams. And most nights I wake, sweating, shaking, and thinking I’m still there, still in that night, still watching. I don’t know how to switch it off. But maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I can cope with the idea that it happened, as long as it damages me a little bit every day.

  ‘Jake, honey, dinner’s ready,’ calls Mum’s voice through my closed door. She’s been on nights all week, and now she’s back on mum duty, cooking up nutritious meals for her wayward son.

  ‘Not hungry,’ I call through the door.

  I hear the handle turn. Mum steps into my room and turns on the light.

  ‘I don’t feel well,’ I say, rolling over on the bed and burying my head in the pillow.

  ‘You need to eat. You’ve been living on chips and Big Ms all week. Get up.’

  Sometimes when she’s annoyed, Mum surprises me. I know she’s not going to let me lie here, so I get up, groaning as loudly as I can to make sure she understands just how inconvenient it is. She’s watching me and her gaze makes me look away. If there’s one person I hate disappointing, it’s Mum.

  ‘Made tacos,’ she says, her voice softening. Of course she did because she knows I love them. I manage a nod.

  ‘Might be time you changed the sheets,’ she says before walking out of my room.

  She’s right, but there’s nothing worse than your mum telling you something like that. I follow her to the kitchen table. She’s already prepared everything and it’s all laid out like we’re in a fancy restaurant. I sit down. Mum hands me a plate with a couple of taco shells on it and I start filling them with meat and cheese and lettuce. Suddenly I’m starving. She’s right. I’ve barely eaten for weeks.

  ‘What’s going on, Jake?’

  I bite into the taco and the shell cracks, dripping fillings everywhere. I eat faster because maybe if my mouth is full, she’ll leave me alone.

  ‘Nothing,’ I manage to mumble.

  She’s still watching me, reading me. That’s what she does. She always has. I put it down to the fact there are only eighteen years between us, so she remembers what it’s like to be fifteen and hold secrets. I smile through my taco and make her laugh. She relaxes enough to start filling the shells on her plate.

  ‘One of my patients died last night,’ she says, concentrating on getting the cheese to sit on the top. ‘He was old. But still. I found him when I went in to give him his tablets. He was a nice one.’

  ‘Oh …’

  ‘Yeah. It makes you think …’ she says, biting into the end of the taco so delicately that not a drop falls onto her plate.

  ‘Are there any more?’

  She nods, smiling at my sudden hunger, and finishes chewing before answering me. ‘Shells are in the oven. I made heaps.’

  The tray is hot so I pull it out with an oven mitt. I remember buying it for her at the Mother’s Day stall at primary school. Pale pink with a heart on the back and crisscross stitching. Alex got one for his mum too.

  ‘Do you want another one while I’m here?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  I take three more shells.

  ‘Mum, what did he look like?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The man who died.’

  She frowns, and I wonder if she’s frowning at my question or at the thought. ‘Like he was asleep. No, more than that. Like the lights had gone out,’ she says. I nod and concentrate on stuffing the tacos.

  ‘Are you pleased with how you went in science?’

  The sudden change in topic throws me. ‘Um, yeah, I guess …’

  She smiles and leans forward, her hand reaching for my arm, but stopping just before it gets there. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  I bite down hard on the taco shell, wishing she’d say anything but that. The sauce is hot and it burns my mouth but I keep eating because it means I don’t have to answer her.

  ‘I know it’s been tough just you and me … but your science teacher seems really pleased with your work … it’s your way out, Jake.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s just year nine science, Mum. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.’

  She nods and sits back in her chair, returning to her taco. But maybe in a way, she’s right. Maybe if I work really hard, dedicate myself, then the man won’t die, he’ll recover and everything will be okay. I reach across and grab her hand, squeezing it.

  ‘You’re right, Mum. It is. Science is my way out.’

  The smile she gives me just about breaks my heart.

  It’s so hot tonight that even getting dressed seems like an effort. Mum’s asleep on the couch again, her legs tucked up under her, and I know she’ll wake in a few hours and ache in all those joints that have been wedged together. I leave the TV on but turn the sound down low so it doesn’t wake her, but sti
ll keeps her company.

  And then I sneak out into the night.

  Six months ago I would have been meeting Alex, maybe hung out with him in the playground. But tonight it’s just me because he’s long gone.

  It was only coincidence that I found out Alex was moving two Fridays ago. He hadn’t told me the date he was leaving and I’m sure he wasn’t planning to, but I happened to walk past his place just as the removalist van pulled up. It was only because I was going down the road to get some milk for Mum’s morning coffee that I was anywhere near Alex’s house at 7 a.m. on a Friday morning. But now I know he’s gone. He’s not my neighbour anymore.

  I called him out on it when I saw him at the skate park that arvo but he was with Ellie and he just sort of laughed like he’d forgotten. He said the new place was a mess but when they got it all sorted then I’d have to come over for a visit. For a visit. Since when do I visit? I’ve been dropping into Alex’s house since forever, and now he’s making me feel like I have to prearrange a meeting. Like I have to get my people to talk to his people and then maybe we can hook up. Like he can get fucked.

  I wonder if Ellie feels like that too.

  I find the shadows along the sides of the road, away from the pockets of glow from the streetlights. I’m not sure what makes me go there, but as I run up to the outside of his house, and see the giant red skip still sitting out the front, I head straight for it. There’s a ridge on the outside that makes it easy to climb up onto the lip. I swing my legs over and stand on something hard. For a minute I feel like I’m in Star Wars, the bit where they’re stuck in the rubbish compactor. The bit that always scared Alex when we were kids.

  I can’t see much because it’s a dimly lit night, the moon isn’t full, but I can tell there’s a whole skip full of memories under my feet. I reach down and grab randomly, like one of those pincer robotic hands in the machines outside the cinema. But, unlike them, I don’t come away empty-handed. I grab some papers and some old VHS tapes.

  It’s all junk, probably, but for some reason I stand there, leaning against the metal wall, my feet sinking into the skip, with Alex’s family’s stuff in my hands, unable to move. I hold the tapes up close to my face to see what they are. One of them is the first Indiana Jones that we watched years ago on the old machine Mum had before she was forced to upgrade to a DVD player. The other is a movie I’ve never seen. I toss that one back, but keep hold of Indiana Jones. Even if Alex doesn’t want to hold onto it, I do.

  Just then I hear a dog bark close by and then a male voice, and I have two options. Duck down and lie on top of all the discarded Cormack family junk, or dive out and run home to check out my stash.

  I choose the latter.

  As I’m scrambling over and down the side, I hear someone yell at me. And the dog starts barking furiously in my direction and I run for home, hoping they don’t decide to chase me.

  I sprint around the side of Mrs White’s house, so that I’m in the thick of her fruit trees. I’m panting. My heart’s racing, but I’m not scared. I wait five minutes but there’s no sign that anybody is after me, so I slink off home.

  Mum’s still on the couch when I come in and I hear her sigh like she’s disapproving, but her eyes are closed and she shows all the signs of sleep. I sneak past and into my room.

  With the window open, I can hear the sounds of the traffic on the freeway. I drop down on my bed, flick on the lamp and start looking through the haul. Most of the papers are just old work documents, probably from Alex’s dad’s office, but then at the bottom is an A4 envelope from school. It’s addressed to Alex’s parents, and it’s been opened already. I slide out the pages from inside. It’s Alex’s school report from last year. It’s all there. The A in English he was proud of and the C in economics his dad was not. I can’t believe they’d bin it like it doesn’t matter, like that part of his life is over and doesn’t count for anything anymore. I chuck the rest of the papers in my bin but keep the report. At least it’s something.

  alex

  It feels weird being in Jake’s flat when I don’t live around the corner anymore. He’s making popcorn like he always does when I come round. He thinks he makes perfect popcorn but he burns half of it because he waits too long to put the corn in so the oil gets too hot.

  ‘Salt or sugar?’ he says from the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t care.’

  ‘Do you care what movie we watch?’

  I know he’s a bit pissed off that I invited Ellie without checking first, and I don’t want him to think that’s why I’m staying over – so I can see her. But it kind of is. It’s pretty hard seeing your girlfriend on a Saturday night if it means having to catch the train and then the tram home really late.

  ‘Are you sure you’re cool with Ellie coming too?’

  He stands up quickly, banging his head on the overhanging corner of the cupboard. ‘Shit,’ he says, rubbing his head and looking at me like it’s my fault. ‘Yeah, because it means we can watch a horror movie.’

  I smile at him, impressed that he’s trying to be okay with her crashing our hanging-out time. It’s not like we’ve seen each other much lately, so tonight’s a big deal. And he smiles back at me, then upends half a cup of salt on the popcorn just as my phone beeps.

  ‘It’s Ellie,’ I say, heading to the front door to let her in.

  ‘Hi,’ she says, leaning up to kiss me. She smells like hot summer air and musk Lifesavers. I slide my arms around her waist and pull her closer, enjoying the kiss until Jake calls out, ‘Hey, Ellie,’ from behind me, sort of ruining the moment.

  As Ellie pulls away, I roll my eyes so only she can see and she gives me a conspiratorial smile before moving me aside and coming into the flat.

  ‘Hey, Jake,’ she says, grabbing a handful of popcorn before I can warn her. I watch her drop half the handful into her mouth and then screw up her face. ‘Water, I need water,’ she jokes.

  Jake laughs. ‘Sorry, went a bit crazy with the salt.’

  ‘So what are we watching?’ she says as she picks up two DVDs off the couch. ‘Didn’t know anyone still hired DVDs,’ she says to Jake.

  Jake shrugs. ‘Mum’s old school.’

  ‘I approve of the choice of film …’ She holds up Poltergeist. I groan.

  Jake grins at her. ‘Yep, that was my thought too.’

  She pats me on the head like I’m missing out on all the fun and settles down on the couch.

  I have no intention of watching this film. But before I snuggle up as close to Ellie as I can, I hit the lights and plunge the room into a state of semi darkness. Luckily Jake’s couch is so small he has to sit on the floor with cushions. I tangle my legs up in Ellie’s and she points to Jake like she’s not sure we should even be sitting together when he’s around. I shrug. Within seconds of the opening credits, he’s nursing his bowl of popcorn and engrossed in whatever head is being decapitated on screen. I know he hired a horror film he knew I’d hate so he could bond with Ellie over something.

  And I have to hand it to Jake. Ellie is actually watching the film and not that responsive when I start kissing her neck. I spin around a bit so I’m facing Ellie. She’s watching the screen. And I’m watching her. Every now and then she gives me a little sideways smile but basically, she’s pretty much concentrating on the film. Without thinking, I gaze back at the screen just as some little blonde girl walks towards a TV screen. She looks like Sass from the back and I turn away, frustrated that Jake’s plan seems to be working.

  Giving up on the film and on trying to distract Ellie, I lean back against the cushions and close my eyes. And wait. I feel Ellie snuggling up close to me and then her hand reaches for mine and I’m happy just to lie there in the dark, holding hands, and waiting for the screams of the movie to finish.

  But when that film’s finished, Jake has a great idea to watch another one. And this time it’s Bride of Chucky or something.

  ‘This one’s funny, Alex,’ says Jake. ‘It’s not scary at all.’

  ‘It
’s creepy. It’s got a doll in it,’ I say, looking at the cover.

  Ellie laughs. ‘Yeah, but you’d probably like it if you watched it.’

  I shake my head, adamant. ‘Jake’s been trying to get me to watch horror films since we were kids. No interest. Zero.’

  ‘Get comfy, I’m pressing play,’ says Jake.

  At some point in the movie, Ellie must lose interest too because she kisses me back when I kiss her. And pretty soon, we’re sort of lying against each other on the couch and quietly kissing. I don’t think Jake’s aware of what’s going on, or maybe he doesn’t care. He seems to be concentrating so hard on watching Bride of Chucky he hasn’t noticed that Ellie and I have not been watching Bride of Chucky for the past hour.

  Then Ellie leans forward and whispers in my ear, ‘Bet I have pash rash tomorrow.’ I try and kiss her again just to add to it but she pushes me away and sits up, pulling on her Doc Martens. ‘I’ve got to get home. It’s after midnight. Mum and Dad will be out with a search party soon.’

  ‘I’ll walk you,’ I say, hoping for some time alone. But Jake jumps up and flicks off the TV before the end of the movie. It makes me wonder if he was aware of what was going on this whole time.

  ‘I’ll come too,’ he says. I glare at him, but the room is too dark for him to notice or if he does, he’s pretending not to.

  ‘Actually, I don’t need either of you to walk me home, thanks,’ says Ellie as she laces up her boot only half way.

  ‘It’s a full moon, El. You know what that means,’ I say, grabbing her and kissing her neck.

  ‘You’re pathetic, Alex. Seriously. And there are no werewolves in Greensborough,’ she says with a straight face.

  ‘Actually, I think if there were werewolves, the borough is exactly where they would choose to live,’ says Jake.

  Ignoring them both, I open the front door. An old umbrella leans up against the wall, and a pair of women’s shoes lie next to it. I remember when I used to think Jake was super rich because he had stairs leading up to his front door and we didn’t. My dad thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

 

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