by Sammy King
The man on the end of the line cleared his throat.
“Look I don’t know what the fuck you want from me ok? Yeah I knew your fucking boyfriend, but I don’t want to be involved in any of the shit that is going on with the whole situation, I want fucking nothing to do with you, with Michael or his junkie missus” he snarled back at me.
“Wait, don’t hang up” I said quickly.
“What, what do you want Monica, what do you want from me?”
“Answers”
“I have no fucking answers”
“Please” my tears came out in sobs “Please, not just for me, but for Dylan’s mum, please, whoever you are, you have some answers that might help put this whole sorry mess to rest”
I heard the man sigh, and could hear the phone rustle, as if he was putting the handpiece down.
“Alright, fuck me, alright, meet me at the underground train Station, at say 2pm ok?”
“Ok but how will I know who you are?”
“Shit, um I’ll have a red flanny on ok? Good enough for you Monica”
I agreed and hung up the phone, sucking in a deep breath.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking the whole way as I sat on the bus heading into the station. My stomach was churning, and I felt like I was fighting the urge to vomit the entire time. I kept looking at my watch as time seemed to slowly tick by. My fears mounted when the big blue bus pulled into the depot and I waddled my way through throngs of people down to the station underneath the shopping centre. The smells of Asian food and spices mixed with fish and meat made the urge to vomit stronger, as I reached the platform. There was an elderly Asian man and his wife, speaking together in Vietnamese in their own world and a young woman with her screaming toddler in a pram, but no man in a red shirt.
I looked down at my watch, and stared at the seconds ticking by; I was a few minutes early, which did nothing for my nerves.
“Monica”
I heard the gruff voice from behind me, it gave me a fright; I spun around and stared at a rounded bearded face, wearing a red flannelette shirt. His beady eyes stared down at my protruding belly and back at my face.
“Hello”
“Come and sit down” he said as he pointed towards the green metal bench seat, just down from the Vietnamese couple who eyed us carefully as we passed.
I sat down on the edge, poised ready to run if I needed to.
“So are you going to tell me who you are?” I asked, a little more forceful than I meant.
The man reached up and ran his hand through his wiry curly brown hair, and then smoothed his beard, he looked out to the other side of the platform, and I followed to where he stared, to see a little pigeon hungrily pinching discarded crumbs from under the seats.
“I’m Richard” he said.
“How do you know Tilly?” I looked back at him, to see him still watching the pigeon.
“Dylan, was Tilly’s boyfriend, why did you say he was yours?”
I shook my head I instantly regretted my rash words.
“I don’t know, I thought you would, I don’t know”
He smiled slyly at me, and looked down at my belly.
“He was your boyfriend as well, it’s ok I won’t tell Tilly; she’s a fucking psycho”
I let out a snort and he laughed.
“That she is” I laughed. I felt a little more at ease, as he nodded, he moved his attention back to the pigeon that had found the motherlode of a half-eaten sandwich.
“So how do you know Tilly, Richard” I said, as I tried to force my voice to be friendlier.
Richard shrugged, he looked back towards me, his eyes had softened, and I could see that he was a lot older than he first appeared.
“How does anyone know Tilly, through the drugs” he said.
“But Dylan, he didn’t meet her through the drugs; he met her when they were at school”
Richard nodded and smiled.
“He was one of the lucky ones I guess, but I think he made the right choice in the end” I frowned at Richard as he spoke quietly “I mean, look at Tilly, she can hardly function now without a needle in her arm, and you, well you’re the polar opposite”
“Yeah well it didn’t get him very far did it, he’s in the ground and I’m here talking to some man that I don’t know trying to find out why” I said as I fought back tears, and the urge to get up and leave.
Richard shrugged again, as he ran his hand through his hair again, and turned his attention back to the bird.
“Why did Dylan have your number?”
“I don’t know” he said, he turned his attention back to me.
“Did you give it to him?”
Richard shook his head and shrugged.
“Nope it didn’t come from me; he rang me out of the blue trying to find Tilly”
“But why?” I said feeling irritated that this was turning into a waste of time. Richard just seemed to be circling all my questions; I couldn’t work out whether he was getting some sort of sick pleasure of out not being straight forward with me.
“She was fucking me. Why else would a boyfriend want to know why his girlfriend is spending all her time at a guy’s house?” he said with a smile.
“It doesn’t make sense though, why would he care, he didn’t love Tilly anymore” I said not necessarily to Richard, but more to myself, I tried to evoke some answer from the thoughts that seemed to float aimlessly in my brain.
“I don’t know Monica, I can’t help you, look you’re a nice kid and I would like to help you, but I can’t and I’m sorry for that.” He turned on the bench to face me. “You don’t deserve any of the shit that is coming your way, but Tilly, your sister, she’s not who you think she is, the drugs, it fucks a person up, it makes them paranoid, she was, is, paranoid.” He shifted in his seat again. “I’m not saying that you should cut her any slack, but just understand that the things she’s done, it’s not because she is a psycho, and it’s the drugs that make her that way”
Richard stood up, and thrust his fat, heavily tattooed and ringed hand at me. I shook his hand gingerly, and watched as he walked away towards the escalator, and disappeared to the upper floor of shopping centre. I felt utter disappointment, and felt like I hadn’t got anywhere. I was no closer to the truth than I was before I met with Richard.
Chapter Eighteen.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering from shop to shop, as I pondered everything that had gone on; I tried to make some sort of sense of what I had been told, not only by Richard, but by everyone. I tried to read between the lines, tried to read what people weren’t telling me, but their actions were. But nothing came out.
On the bus I watched the houses pass, and as it headed up the highway, I made the snap decision to go and speak with Tilly again.
As I walked down the road I grew up on, unsure that I was making the right decision, I saw the big red brick house that I knew as mine, the house that held so many good and bad memories, the home that took my mother’s life. I slowed as I walked past the front gate, it appeared still empty, it seemed to loom and hold a hidden evil that wanted to reach out and grab anybody that got too close, the unknown evil entity wanted to pull them in, to their dark spiral of demise.
I sped my steps up to get past the house, and let out a deep breath as I reached the quarry fence line. As I got to the street Tilly and Dad lived on, my back and legs were starting to hurt, and I was glad to see Dad’s car in the driveway, I knew that he would drive me the kilometre back home.
When I knocked on the door, Dad looked surprised to see me.
“Mon, what are you doing here? Is everything ok?”
I smiled and nodded. I followed dad into the house, I could see Tilly on the couch; she didn’t look as spaced out as usual, as she watched the television, a cigarette in her hand.
“Hi Tilly” I said from the front door, she looked up and I could see that she was the same space cadet as always.
“Hi” she said as she turned back to the television
.
I followed Dad into the kitchen and sat at the table, while he put the kettle on. He looked back over his shoulder at me.
“What have you been up to today?”
“I went to the shopping centre and had a look at the shops” I said, as I fiddled with the edge of the placemat on the table.
“And?”
“And what?”
Dad sighed; he came over to the table and sat on the chair opposite me.
“Mon, I might have been a shitty father, but I learnt a few things about you, and I know when something is going on, you’re a shocking liar”
I smiled up at him and nodded.
“I found a phone number in Dylan’s stuff a few weeks back. I rang it, it was a guy, but he said he didn’t know Dylan”.
Dad stood back up and started to make his coffee, he waved his hand for me to continue while he finished making his drink.
“Well after everything that happened yesterday, I thought I would ring him again, I mean why would Dylan have his number right?”
“Yeah so who was he?”
“His name is Richard” I said quietly, to try and prevent Tilly from here.
“He knows her” Dad said as he nodded towards the lounge room. I nodded in response.
“Any answers?” Dad asked, as he sat back down in front of me.
I shook my head.
“No, all he said is that Dylan was looking for her, because she was having sex with this guy, and he was trying to find out who he was. He said that drugs make her do the psycho things, so not to hold her responsible for the things she’s done but the drugs” I said, I rubbed my forehead.
Dad sighed, and looked at me reading my face.
“I dunno Mon, I don’t know what to think, I can’t help but think we might be reading more into this than what there really is, I mean maybe Michael just killed Dylan, because the guy is a dickhead”
I nodded.
“It would be nice to just have a reason; it makes it better somehow with a reason”
“I know” he said as he dropped his face down to stare at his coffee.
We fell into silence that was broken when Tilly came into the room.
“Mon, when did you get here?” she said from behind me.
I looked over at Dad, who looked over at me with a slight eyebrow rise.
“Not long ago” I said as I half turned in my seat to look at her.
“Oh nice” she said as she went to the bench and started to make a coffee, I watched as she shovelled five sugars into the mug.
“Shelly said she saw you yesterday” Tilly said from the counter.
I felt my entire body stiffen with anxiety, the words of Richard flowed through my ears that Tilly was a psycho. I cleared my throat, as Dad’s eyes narrowed and bored into Tilly’s back.
“Oh, um yeah she did, she wasn’t making a lot of sense” I said.
Tilly let out a big belly laugh, almost maniacal in nature.
“She never fucking does” she said, and turned with a horrifying grin on her face, her teeth black and broken.
“Do you reckon Michael was put up to killing Dylan?” she said, the smile suddenly dropped from her face.
Suddenly I felt like I was walking in a mine field, scared to step in case it blew up.
“I don’t know Tilly, I really don’t” I said; I watched her carefully, every sense in my body on fire, ready to leap away in an instant, I could see Dad’s body also tensed ready for action, not sure where this was going.
“Well I reckon he was” she said, as she came close to the table, and leaned in towards me.
I leaned back, as I felt increasingly uncomfortable.
“Tilly” Dad’s voice sounded, warning.
“I know who did it to” she said smiling, her breath hitting my face in a stinking foul breeze. She pushed herself back off the table, and snatched her mug of coffee, it slopped onto the bench as she marched back into the lounge room.
I looked over at Dad in shock, he half stood, half sat on his chair. He eased back into the chair, and let out a sharp breath.
“I better go now, would you mind giving me a lift home?” I said; I eased my way up on shaking legs.
Dad and I made our way to the front door, as he picked up his keys from the side table beside the entrance.
“Bye Mon, it was great to see you again” Tilly called from the couch.
I turned to face her, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw the devil himself flash across her face.
“Bye” I said; I flew out the front door, and into the safety of Dad’s car. A chill of fear froze my blood in my veins.
On the way back to my house, Dad told me he didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to come back again. I agreed, and I knew that I wouldn’t come back when Dad wasn’t there. But what Tilly said had troubled me. She knew who ordered Michael to kill Dylan. I didn’t know if she was telling the truth, or just trying to hurt me, but there was only one person who could answer that, and he sat in a jail cell.
“Dad I think I want to speak to Michael.” I said as we pulled into my driveway.
“I thought you might” Dad said, when he turned off the ignition and looked over at me.
“Do you really think it’s going to help? What if he tells you something that paints Dylan in a negative light? What if the truth isn’t favourable to Dylan?” Dad flicked his hand through my hair.
I dropped my head, and stared down at my belly.
“I know Dad, but it’s a risk I have to take. I don’t want to think Dylan was turning into a bad guy, but I need to know”
“Why Mon?” he said, he lifted my head with his fingers under my chin to look at him.
Tears glistened in my eyes, to match those in his.
“If I don’t I will always wonder, and it will kill me never knowing”
Dad nodded, and patted my thigh.
“I just don’t want you to be hurt, I think you’ve had enough of that to last a life time” he said.
I squeezed his hand, and wiped my tears with my free hand. I didn’t know if Dad would take me to the prison, I didn’t know if it was even a good idea to go, but Tilly’s words wouldn’t go away. And I needed the truth.
Chapter Nineteen.
Over the following days, life just seemed to take over. The questions and answers were never very far from my mind, but with hospital appointments, studying for exams, sorting out the bedroom for the upcoming arrival of the baby, I was too busy to deal with anything else. Dad seemed a little distant too, and I had wondered if it was because he didn’t want me to speak with Michael.
I was surprised on the following Saturday when Dad came to the house. I had finished the final touch ups on the room, and had set up the cot and dressed it.
“That looks great Mon”
I turned to see Dad in the bedroom door he smiled and looked around at the nursery and my bedroom.
“You’ve made a real difference in here” he said as he came in the room.
I smiled up at him, pleased with my achievement.
“Do you still want to get your answers?” he asked, as his smile dropped.
I felt a lurch in my stomach as my anxiety began to rise. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anymore. But there was a sick stubbornness flowing through me that needed to know. I nodded at Dad as he frowned.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to” he said as he held my shoulder lightly.
“Yes, I’m sure, are we going to speak with Michael?”
Dad nodded and explained how it was visiting day at the prison. He had written to Michael, and organised to have our names put on the visitors list. I swallowed hard at the reality of what was about to happen, and I could feel my hands begin to shake. I wasn’t sure that this was the right thing to do, but I just needed to know why.
On the way to the prison we drove in silence, with only the radio to break up the awkwardness. I watched the world slip by from the window of the car. Dylan flooded my thoughts, his face
, his scent, and his touch. Soon we were pulled up to a small booth which sat in front of a big looming grey brick wall. My anxiety began to rise even higher. Dad spoke to the security guard at the gate, as the guard explained where Dad had to park and where to go. We walked to the administration building at the front of the prison, my legs seemed to have a mind of their own, they were walking by themselves, but my mind and heart was screaming to stop.
I recognised Michael as soon as I saw him. The prison wasn’t like the movies, there weren’t little booths to sit behind with a phone, and it was just a table in a room of tables. Other prisoners were there with their families, there were lots of smiles, laughter and tears. Michael smiled warily as he approached the table.
“Hi Shane, Mon” he said as he reached his hand out and shook Dad’s hand. I didn’t extend my hand to shake his. He sat down and watched me gingerly, as if lost for words.
My anger was rising and beginning to boil, and the longer we sat in silence, the harder it was to keep a lid on it.
“Why?” I said as tears suddenly flooded my cheeks.
Dad grabbed my hand that was balled tightly into a fist, and held onto it tight. Michael stared at me blankly, and dropped his face to the table.
“Mon, I’m sorry, I know that your angry and you have every right to be, but I can’t tell you why” he said quietly.
“Why can’t you tell me? Why won’t anyone tell me why? I have a right to know, our fucking baby has a right to know why his daddy isn’t going to be around” I yelled through gritted teeth.
I instantly regretted my words, but couldn’t bring them back, as Michael stared back at me, an eyebrow raised. He didn’t know about Dylan and I no one had told him. I stared at Michael my face flushed with my mistake. Michael ran his hand over his face, as he breathed out heavily, and took in the news I’d just delivered in a foul blow.
“Mon please, maybe this was a mistake” Dad said as he stood up and tried to pull my arm up.