The Crush

by Scott Monk

  ‘Sorry,’ he said dryly. ‘I’ve been … distracted.’

  ‘I can tell. I almost thought you were ignoring me.’

  ‘No, I didn’t hear you, that’s all. What are you doing here anyway?’

  Not that he cared. He wanted to be alone.

  ‘I’ve just finished work. Can’t you tell?’ she said, playfully modelling her daggy pink and grey uniform. ‘Embarrassing, isn’t it? I look like a galah.’

  She did. ‘Or a mouldy jam sandwich,’ he offered.

  ‘Oh thanks!’

  She laughed but he didn’t. Couldn’t she go away so he could suffer alone?

  ‘Do you want a doughnut? They’re from work.’

  At least that explained the uniform.

  ‘No thanks. What happened to your arm?’ he asked, noticing the sling.

  ‘I, um, burnt it at work. Some hot oil splashed on me.’

  Funny. He didn’t know any kind of oil that left bruises.

  ‘How about you? What are you doing here—apart from ignoring friends?’

  ‘Just bumming around.’

  Kelly wasn’t convinced. She saw his pain and dropped the happy act. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.’

  ‘You look disturbed. Is something wrong?’

  ‘Er …’

  ‘Matt?’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later, okay?’

  He quickly backed away, feeling tears again. Kelly made a move towards him and scared him. Flustered, he crashed into a high-class lady, knocked her off her stilettos before bolting out of the building.

  Kelly called out his name, but he kept running.

  Three hours later, he found himself sitting on a bench in the middle of the Old Town Centre Plaza. His sleeves dangled lifeless against his sides as he crossed his arms under his shirt. Home was just around the corner, but he dreaded walking in the front door. She would be there. He’d only headed back to Bankstown because all the shops had closed in the city. If he had his way, he’d still be wandering the streets, or catching a train to Wollongong or the Gold Coast. Crashing on a beach for the night sounded pretty cool.

  He wanted to get smashed. So smashed that every thought and feeling would be washed from his brain. Pity Chris wasn’t home. He’d see if he had any of that bourbon left. Maybe he could bribe a drunk to buy him a six-pack instead.

  Stressed, he ran his fingers through his hair, hoping it would clear his head. He was thinking crazy thoughts. He hated drinking. Hard to imagine him being a guy and all, but he’d never got the taste for it. Seeing too many fights and messed up mental cases in housing estates had scared him sober.

  To his right, a taxi driver suddenly laughed. The man shoved a white parcel under his elbow, searched for his keys then waved goodbye to Mr Nassaris. He was the last customer for the night. The old Cypriot locked the front doors, turned off the lights then flicked on the alarm system before pulling on his Andy Cap hat to head home. Wafts of salty crabsticks and garfish would stink out their upstairs unit all night.

  The farewell was the last sign of life for at least twenty minutes. So Matt jumped when his mum spoke behind him. ‘I was wondering where you were.’

  ‘What are you doing here? You scared me.’

  ‘I was about to ask you the same thing. Mr Nassaris saw you sitting out here and said he was worried about you.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ he answered, turning away from her.

  She walked in front of him but he avoided looking at her.

  ‘What’s wrong, mate?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘So that’s why you’re sulking out here on your own?’

  ‘I’m not sulking.’

  ‘Yes you are. You never miss dinner unless you’re sulking.’

  Matt clammed up.

  ‘C’mon, confess. What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s nothing, all right?’

  ‘Are you fighting with Chris?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Another of your mates then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it school?’

  ‘No. Look—’

  ‘It is a girl?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it me?’

  A pause. ‘No,’ he lied, breathing out.

  ‘It’s your dad then, isn’t it? You always get stroppy round your birthday.’

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘Yes you do. Every year without fail.’

  Matt huffed. He hated how his mum could read him so well. He wondered if she could play his game of truth just as competently.

  ‘It just bugs me, that’s all,’ he added.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s not fair. Everyone else has a dad.’

  ‘Grover doesn’t.’

  ‘Yeah he does. He lives with his mum, but he still visits his dad on weekends.’

  ‘But they fight all the time.’

  ‘It’s better than having nothing.’

  ‘So what am I?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  The seat tilted suddenly as his mum flopped down next to him. Boy, how he desperately wanted her to lose weight. Didn’t she care about her health?

  ‘Why can’t I have a dad?’ he asked out of frustration.

  ‘You know why, Matthew.’

  ‘Didn’t you ever think to ask him for his name or his phone number at the party?’

  ‘I was drunk. I forgot to ask, okay?’

  ‘But you let him sleep with you!’

  ‘Hey, don’t get an attitude with me. I got enough grief from your grandparents back then. I don’t want any from my son now.’

  ‘I’m not getting an attitude. I just want answers.’

  ‘Why? It’s not going to change anything. I was a silly girl who wanted to grow up too fast. I got in way over my head.’

  ‘But that’s what I can’t understand. You slept with him then did nothing even after you found out you were pregnant. Surely one of your friends would’ve known who he was. It should’ve been easy to track him down.’

  ‘And he should’ve done the same thing before he died.’

  ‘How do you know he died?’

  ‘Because I saw the car crash on the news. I recognised the numberplate.’

  ‘Did they say his name?’

  ‘No, just his age.’

  ‘It could’ve been one of his friends.’

  ‘No, it was him. He didn’t have any friends.’

  ‘Weren’t you his friend?’

  ‘No. Like I’ve told you again and again, we only knew each other for one night.’

  ‘Didn’t you call the cops to find out his name?’

  ‘Matthew, I was too shocked to talk let alone ring anyone.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you check the births, deaths and marriages column? Surely—’

  ‘Why is this so important to you? I thought we’d discussed this a hundred times already.’

  ‘We haven’t discussed it, that’s the problem. You never talk about him.’

  ‘Because I’ve told you everything I know!’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes, everything.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  His mum hesitated then recovered. ‘Fine. Then don’t,’ she said, leaning forward to stand. ‘You can sit out here all night and sulk. I’m going to bed. If you decide to do the same, then make sure you leave your attitude at the door. I don’t want it in my house. And I never want to discuss your father again, got it?’

  Matt turned away to ignore her glare. Failing to get his attention, Heather shook her head then started shuffling back to their unit.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he called out after her, when she was a safe distance away, ‘I’ll go find out about him myself. Who knows? He might still be alive and locked away somewhere.’

  His mum spun around. ‘What did you say?’

  Matt stood up. ‘I’m outa here.’

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘What
do you care?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Get back here.’

  He kept walking.

  ‘Matthew. Don’t you walk away from me. I mean it.’

  Too late. He was gone.

  The last thing he wanted to see was the blue Porsche. Lights on, it was parked but humming outside Kelly’s place. Matt wondered if Knuckles knew his son was joyriding again.

  The passenger door opened and Matt hid in the darkness behind a tree. Still dressed in her pink and grey uniform, Kelly escaped from her seat but Blackwell’s hand grabbed the back of her skirt. He tried dragging her back into the car but she resisted, begging him to let go. She kept her voice down at first, but when he grew more determined, she started shouting at him.

  ‘Stop calling me that!’ She freed herself and stepped towards her house.

  Blackwell climbed out the driver’s side. ‘I’ll call you anything I like,’ he said. ‘You’re my girlfriend and that makes you my property.’

  ‘Can’t you leave me alone for just one night?’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I want. And you’re going to like it.’

  He pulled her towards him and kissed her hard. His lips slimed over hers and he slammed his hips against hers. Kelly fought back but her boyfriend was bigger and stronger than she was. Growling, Matt was ready to pounce.

  ‘Stop it, Aaron!’

  Gibraltar suddenly barked from the backyard as the words carried clearly throughout the crisp night air. Conscious of her voice, she lowered it again.

  ‘If you don’t let go of me, I’ll call out to my dad.’

  ‘Go ahead. I’m not afraid. He loves me like a son. I can’t do anything wrong in his eyes.’

  Blackwell made a second attempt but Kelly freed herself. Gibraltar was in the front yard by then and barking loudly at a distance.

  ‘Please, Aaron, just go before mum and dad wake up. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?’

  Blackwell looked at the dog then back to Kelly.

  ‘Stupid mutt,’ he spat, before stepping back into the Porsche. Matt wasn’t convinced he was talking about the dog.

  The Porsche squealed away, leaving Kelly standing in her driveway. She bent down to stop Gibraltar barking by giving her a hug. As Matt approached, he could hear sniffling.

  ‘Whatever you do, don’t hit me this time,’ he said, raising his arms in early surrender.

  Kelly turned around and wiped a tear from her face. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  Kelly stood up. ‘Sorry, but I’m tired. I’m going to bed.’ She grabbed Gibraltar by the collar. ‘C’mon, girl. Time to go inside.’

  They both walked towards the front door as though Matt didn’t even exist. He deserved it though. He’d treated Kelly exactly the same way earlier.

  ‘Please, don’t go. I came over to apologise for running away from you today.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I also wanted to explain why I acted like I did.’

  ‘Can it wait until the morning? I’ve had a bad night.’

  ‘I can tell. Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘What’s there to say?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I reckon neither of us is going to get any sleep tonight. We might as well talk to somebody.’

  Kelly thought about it but wasn’t convinced. ‘Maybe some other time.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what. If you want some company, I’ll meet you down at that kids’ park. I’ll stick around for an hour or so. If you don’t show by then, I’ll head home.’

  Hands wrapped around the steel chains, Matt rocked back and forth on a swing. The points of his shoes dug into the dust and he shuddered to a stop. He hung his head and rubbed his eyes. His aggro had worn off and fatigue had caught up with him. He’d waited seventy minutes for Kelly but she was a no-show. Time to find a bed.

  His seat shook as someone sat on the second swing.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Kelly said.

  He looked up at her with tired eyes. She had changed out of her uniform and into jeans, a shirt and thin red jumper. She had a spare one for him. ‘You must be freezing.’

  ‘I am. Thanks.’ He gratefully pulled it on. Its cotton softness smelt of vanilla. It was too tight around the arms and waist, and baggy around the chest but he didn’t mind. She’d cared enough to worry about him.

  ‘It’s funny,’ she began, getting her swing moving and balancing herself with her good arm. ‘Every time I turn around, you’re there. It’s like you’re my fairy godfather.’

  ‘Without the wings and guns,’ he joked.

  She half smiled. ‘So who wants to go first?’

  ‘You can,’ he said.

  Resting her head against the chain, she stared idly across the road. ‘Aaron and I had another misunderstanding, that’s all. We’ll be okay in the morning.’

  ‘What was this one about?’

  ‘He wanted me to sleep over at his house. I said no, my parents would kill me. He drove away angry. End of story.’

  ‘Does he treat you like that often?’

  ‘No. He’s so sweet when he’s in a good mood. Very affectionate too. There was this one time when we were twelve that he couldn’t afford a friendship ring so he tore off the ring-pull of a Coke can and gave it to me instead. I still wear it, see?’ She reached for her leather necklace and showed him the metal tab dangling from it. But Matt looked at her fingers. There was still no real ring from her Porsche-driving boyfriend.

  ‘He’s your first boyfriend?’

  ‘Yeah, and I couldn’t be dating anyone better,’ she said, looking sombrely at the ground. ‘He’s so popular. Everyone adores him. He could’ve picked any girl he liked but he chose me, Plain Jane.’

  ‘You’re not plain.’

  ‘Yes I am. Nobody even paid me any attention before Aaron. I was the dorkiest twelve-year-old alive.’

  ‘Second only to me.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘Oh yeah? I nearly drowned at a school disco.’

  ‘You nearly what?’

  ‘Drowned. I’ve always been a hopeless dancer and I was bopping away at this particular disco when I backed into the drinks table. I crashed into it and fell to the ground. The water cooler fell on top of me, busted open and poured about twenty litres onto me. The teachers ended up calling an ambulance.’

  Kelly laughed out loud as Matt’s cheeks fried with embarrassment.

  ‘And you thought you were a dork.’

  ‘Sorry, but that takes the geek of the week prize,’ she said.

  The laughter continued some more before a fight between a possum and a cat broke out. The ringtail came off second best and shot up a gum tree.

  ‘Okay,’ Kelly said. ‘Now it’s your turn. Why did you run away from me today?’

  Matt breathed in and out. He stared at his boots then gave a weak smile.

  He told her the whole story—the card, the restaurant, the letters, his grandmother at Balmain, the secrets, the hurt and the grief of finding out he’d been lied to from birth.

  When he finished, Kelly’s mouth was agape. ‘Why didn’t your mum ever tell you?’

  ‘Beats me. And that’s what upsets me the most. I’ll never trust her again. Or Nan.’

  He got up and walked away. Kelly followed him to the jungle gym, where he buried his head in his arms against a metal bar. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder and her touch rippled across his back. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t keep on living like this.’

  ‘Have you thought about going and seeing your dad?’

  ‘But he’s in jail.’

  ‘He’d have visiting hours, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Then go find out the truth.’

  He looked at her with sad eyes. She smiled back at him.

  ‘But what if we don’t get along?’

  ‘Then you’ll be like every other teenager who has parents.’r />
  Heads collided and shoulders jolted as the scrum packed down. Big brawny blokes grunted, swore and heaved as they pushed against the opposing team’s pack, fighting for territory like two enraged mountain goats locking horns. Standing outside, Matt glanced at the scoreboard: 14–10 with forty-eight seconds left. They had to hold onto that lead. It wouldn’t be easy. The Mongrels had been bulldozed back to their own twenty metre mark by the Punchbowl Boys team. One quick try and the Mongrels were goners.

  Biting down on his tongue, the wily opposing halfback fed the footy into the scrum. Boots stomped, kicked and jabbed at the ball as both teams fought for possession. Matt watched intently, praying that his team would win the scrum against the feed. But it finally rolled out the Punchbowl side and the halfback was away.

  The ball switched hands fast. A quick flurry of passes saw it rocket left. The Mongrels defensive line charged forward only to have the ball whiz past it. The Punchbowl five-eighth caught it, dummied, sidestepped then threw a long, low pass towards the winger. The Mongrels were in disarray. Plenty of gaps exposed their tryline. If the Punchbowl winger caught the ball, he’d certainly dive over to score.

  But Matt had read the play. As the Punchbowl winger waited eagerly for the ball to land in his hands, Matt pistoned forward and … Intercept! He snatched the ball from the air and ran the final eighty metres of the field for a try.

  The Mongrels ran to hug him as the final siren wailed.

  ‘You legend!’ Grover said, scruffing his head.

  Hazem couldn’t find the words to express his delight so he screamed instead.

  ‘Two more wins and we’re into the grand final, Matty!’ Chris announced, slapping his mate on the back.

  Rhino, being Rhino, grunted once.

  The high lasted all week. Friends and family gave them a surprise victory party. The Dragon Lady called a special assembly to congratulate them in front of the whole school. And at training, the guys were more determined than ever to win. The celebrations were a distant memory for Matt by the weekend, though. He had more important things to think about.

  With one knee banging like a jackhammer, Matt sat at a long table in the prison’s mess hall. Scores of wives, girlfriends, brothers, lawyers, children and seedy types slouched in the cheap, hard plastic chairs beside him. He dared not look at them, preferring instead to focus on the pink walls. Coldness hummed from the air conditioner, forcing him to wrap his jacket tighter around him. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait. He was busting to go to the toilet. But time seemed to be stuck in those walls.