Push Me, Pull Me

by Vanessa Garden

  “Woo-by make Daddy cry,” said Jay, before scrambling out of my arms to go cling to Dad’s woolly leg.

  The back of my throat burned with supressed emotion.

  “I’m not as hopeless as you think. Although I’ve been drinking a lot the past couple of months, I’ve never been drunk when I’m alone with Jay. I’ve never driven drunk. I’m his father for shit’s sake. He’s my responsibility!” Dad sucked in a deep breath, the control returning to his voice. “It’s time you understood that you’re not Jay’s mother, Ruby. You’re his sister. You’ve got to remember that.”

  I stood there for a long time, drawing deep breaths and shaking, before I ran from the room, my head and heart pounding.

  In the kitchen, I paused at the bench-top. The sun was coming through the window and reflecting against the two sets of keys hanging by the phone.

  I snatched the set that hadn’t been touched in nearly three months, scooped up my purse from the ground, and ran outside to the carport where Mum’s red car lay dormant.

  Ramming the key into the ignition, I tried to turn the engine over, but the car made a clicking sound and nothing more. Again and again I tried, but gave up after around twenty attempts.

  Dad rapped his knuckles against the window. When I wound the window down, I noticed Mr. Brackinson was still out front, bouncing his ball against the driveway as if nothing was wrong, as if one of his students wasn’t losing her mind.

  “The battery’s dead,” Dad said. “And I think it needs a new radiator hose.”

  I sighed and banged my head against the headrest. “I want to go find Martin.” I turned to Dad, my voice breaking. “He’s gone away.” Like Mum, like Byron.

  Dad stepped back and opened the car door.

  “How about I get the car fixed up and ready in the next week or so. Then it’s yours.”

  I swung my legs around and stood up. To get to Martin and sort our friendship out, I’d have to stomach driving Mum’s car whether I liked it or not.

  “That’d be great.”

  Mr. Brackinson threw the ball my way as I headed for the house. It ricocheted off my knee and back into his hand.

  “Good shot, Ruby!”

  I ignored the crazy man.

  Dad called my name and I spun around.

  “Mira is going to be around a lot more. She wants to help with Jay so you can go back to school.”

  I nodded my head but said nothing. School had to take a huge backseat for the moment. How on earth could I concentrate on school when three of the most important people in my life—Mum, Martin, and Byron—were gone.

  After building a figure-eight train track with Jay, I went straight to my room and tried calling Martin.

  This time he answered.

  “Martin?”

  “Ruby! You forgot to use a movie line again.”

  I laughed and fell back against my pillow, relieved to hear his voice.

  “You forgot as well.”

  He was living in Fremantle with his great-aunt, was enjoying it, and wanted me to drive up and see him. He didn’t mention the kiss and for that I was grateful. I was desperate to ask him if he thought Madeline still had Byron’s number, the one he’d autographed at the first gig, but felt it was best if I didn’t bring him up at all. I’d have to be an insensitive jerk to do that. Instead I planned on paying Madeline a visit later, and asking her for it myself. Though I didn’t expect her to hand it over just like that.

  “When can you come up and see me, Rubes?”

  “Um, actually, Dad’s fixing my mum’s car, so who knows, maybe in a couple of weeks.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m missing you something chronic, and I’m getting creeped out watching old episodes of True Blood, alone, with my fang-banger wannabe aunt.”

  “Great.” I hugged Piggy to my chest, my heart swelling with so much happiness I could hardly contain it all inside my chest. Martin sounded normal again. “I’ll call you before I head up.”

  I waited until a decent hour, nine a.m., to walk over to Madeline’s house. She lived in the slightly more well-to-do part of Donny Vale, the new housing lots studded with grand, Zen-style modern mansions. Her family had arrived in town roughly three years ago from the city, fleeing their stressful corporate world for the slower pace of country life.

  There used to be whispers around school that they’d left the city because of Madeline. Nobody knew what or why for. But the rumours never amounted to anything too sinister, just run of the mill stuff like teen pregnancy and teacher/student affairs, and she quickly became the most popular girl at school.

  Smoothing down my hair, I knocked on the shiny white door and waited. Madeline’s mother, who seemed a lot older than the way she dressed, answered the door with a super-white smile.

  “Ruby, come in.”

  “No. She can wait at the door.” Madeline nudged her mother aside. Her face looked washed out. As if she too had stood in the rain last night. There wasn’t a shred of makeup on her splotchy face and her eyes were red, as though she’d been crying for hours.

  “Hi, Madel—”

  “What do you want?” She drummed her lilac nails against the doorframe.

  “Um…I spoke to Martin.” I offered a weak smile. “He lives in Fremantle now.”

  “Okay. So you came to rub it in or something?” She sniffed and kept her unblinking dark eyes on mine. They were like two bullets waiting to pierce my skull.

  “No, no. I came here…to ask you a favour.”

  She continued to glare at me.

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  “I need to ask…if I can…if I can have Byron’s number.”

  “He doesn’t want to be contacted. He told me this morning.”

  I gasped in shock. A gentle breeze would have flattened me right now.

  “He came to say goodbye?”

  Madeline frowned. “Why wouldn’t he? We got pretty close while he was here.”

  She may as well have dug her long nails between my ribs and squeezed my heart. And if that wasn’t already bad enough, she added this, “He made it clear I was not to give you his number.”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “He wouldn’t have said that. Byron wouldn’t—”

  “Well, he did.”

  And with that she slammed the door on my face.

  She’s lying. She has to be lying.

  I pounded on the door with my fist until she opened it again.

  “He wouldn’t have said that.”

  She smiled, but it was anything but nice.

  “I’ll have you know that Byron and I have more in common than you’ll ever know.”

  I stared at her, drinking in the expensive clothes, the long salon styled hair, the narrow, cold, bitchy eyes. What on earth could she have in common with soulfully artistic Byron?

  “Like what?” I asked, hurt and baffled and annoyed that she was in on his secret.

  “Nothing you need to know. It’s how he wants things. He left for good reason.”

  “Then tell me that reason, please, Madeline? I need to know.”

  She blinked and a single tear slid down her cheek.

  “Look, what more do you want? You already have one guy in love with you. Be happy with that.” She practically slapped the tear away from her face.

  “Just tell me that he’s not going to do anything stupid…like…”

  She smirked. “Don’t worry, it’s not like he’s going to kill himself over someone like you…” She stopped suddenly. Her smile fell away and she pressed her hands to her face, genuine horror in her eyes. “Ruby, sorry…your mum…I completely forgot.”

  I stepped back, tripping on the front door step, and grazed my ankle on the limestone bricks before I turned and ran.

  ***

  The next few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights, but not because of Jay’s night frights—he’d miraculously outgrown them—but because Byron was out there somewhere, battling his demons, dreaming about darkness, and possibly calling out fo
r me in the night. And I couldn’t help him because he wanted nothing to do with me anymore.

  I was desperate to see Martin, but because the radiator hose had to come over from a warehouse in the eastern states, I had to wait for two agonisingly long weeks.

  Mr. Brackinson dropped by on his morning walk at least three times a week, hoping to lure me back to school while distracting me with a game of hand tennis. But I didn’t cave…yet. I figured I’d eventually repeat year twelve, but not until I saw Martin and not until I found Byron. Byron had become an obsession, an unhealthy one, but I couldn’t move on until I knew why he’d never said goodbye after the amazing night we’d spent together. And why Madeline was privy to his innermost secrets instead of me.

  Mira came around almost every day to spend time with Jay and me while Dad worked. Yes. While Dad worked. He’d slipped up only once so far, dropping into the pub after work. But Mira made him pay for it by playing loud Croatian folk music, which featured a pigskin instrument that sounded like an eternal groan, the following day.

  Then one morning, out of the blue, Dad stormed into my room, told me to get showered and dressed and that he had a surprise waiting for me outside in the carport.

  “Radiator hose is in, and she’s got a spanking new battery. You’re good to go.”

  Rubbing my gritting eyes, I stretched out against my pillow. It took a moment for his words to register.

  “I guess I’m going to see Martin today.”

  Dad laughed. “At least we’ll save on phone bills.”

  I smiled, but a sudden panic squeezed at my heart. “What about—”

  “Jay’s fine,” Dad cut in and rested his hands on my shoulders. “He’ll live. You’re his sister, remember.”

  I sighed in defeat. He was right. All this time I was trying to be a mother when I could have just been Jay’s sister. He needed his sister too.

  “Go and get packed.” He sniffed me and pulled a face. “And maybe a quick shower. I want you on the road in fifteen minutes. I told Martin you’d get there just after lunch.”

  Excitement zipped through me at the idea of seeing Martin in a few hours. I leaned in and gave Dad a peck on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He gave me a bear hug and lifted me off the ground like I was made of nothing. “Just want you happy, Rubes, that’s all.”

  After a quick shower and after tossing an assortment of clothes and things, along with Jay’s stuffed duck toy, into a bag, I grabbed Mum’s old car keys from the hook and raced down the veranda steps.

  “I started it up last night. It runs fine. Tank’s full. Should get you to Fremantle,” Dad said, rapping on the roof with his knuckles. “Just fill it up again before you head back.”

  I nodded my head and at the same time Jay came toddling up to the car, clutching Piggy to his chest.

  “Look after him, Jay,” I said, swallowing back the ache in my throat. I squeezed him to me, inhaled the biscuity smell of his hair, and smothered his soft cheeks with a thousand kisses and said, “I love you,” just as many times.

  After strapping myself in the driver’s seat, I held two fingers out of the window. “I’ll be back in two sleeps.”

  He took a while, but eventually Jay held out two chubby fingers, proudly. “Two seeps.”

  I smiled and gave him the thumbs up. “Clever boy.”

  Dad leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. He smelt like bacon and toast and coffee—not alcohol. “I love you so much, Dad,” I said, pressing myself against his smooth cheek. He was starting to shave more often lately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain—”

  “Shush. Just go out and do your thing, Rubes, it’s been a long time coming.”

  I nodded my head, and after throwing the car into reverse, backed out onto the road, sunlight streaming through the passenger window, warming my lap.

  Jay jumped up and down with glee when I beeped my horn. Mira came out to stand beside Dad and waved. The sun lit up their faces. I waved back and beeped a couple more times.

  Derek glanced up from the weeding he’d been doing and waved a dirt coated hand my way. I waved back, wondering if seeing Mum’s car on the road again was doing the same thing to him as it was doing to me—filling my heart with happiness and sadness, but mainly happiness.

  Chapter 16

  The drive gave me plenty of time, too much time, to wonder if I was ever going to see Byron again and to ponder the various possible reasons as to why he left so suddenly. All of that talk of suicide and the nothingness left me feeling very afraid for him.

  But later, when I got my first glimpse of the Indian Ocean, my thoughts turned to Martin. I’d missed him so much. And although Byron had left me feeling lost and more than a little empty inside, seeing Martin again was at least going to fill a tiny part of the cavity in my heart.

  Driving through suburban Fremantle was tricky and busier than I was used to. Plus the streets seemed to get narrower with each turn and were loaded with cars parked on either side. Eventually, after a few wrong turns, I pulled into Martin’s drive, number twelve, where he was staying with his aunt. It was a nice little old 1960s house, with a small wooden veranda and a rose garden out the front, with hardly any blooms left.

  Somebody cleared their throat to my left as I started up the veranda steps. It was Martin, draped over a banana lounge, wearing only his board shorts and his favourite aviator sunglasses. He peered over them at me and winked.

  “Mrs. Johnson, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” I said in my best Dustin Hoffman.

  Martin nodded his head and grinned, then stood up, pushed his sunglasses back to rest on a bed of curly blond hair and seized me by the hand. He gave me a look that said, ‘get ready for this, baby.’

  “I have a little confession to make. I really am a horse doctor. But marry me and I’ll never look at any other horse.”

  I snorted a laugh and dropped his hand. “What on earth is that?”

  “Guess.”

  “You’ve stumped me.”

  “A Day at the Races. 1937.” His shades dropped back over his eyes, but he peered over the rims at me. “I’m the new king. Say it.”

  I punched him, hard, against his naked shoulder, but with his new-found brawn, care of Madeline’s fitness regime, he hardly budged an inch. It was like hitting rock.

  “Ouch.” I shook my throbbing hand.

  “Sorry.” He knocked his knee against mine. “So, you wanna check out my digs?”

  “Yeah. Totally.”

  I followed him inside and after my eyes adjusted to the dim, spotted a tiny grey haired woman sitting at the kitchen table, peering at me from over the book she was reading.

  The book was called The Sucking Succubus, and had a picture of a bare chested man, writhing in bed, while a transparent woman chowed down on his soul.

  “Hello, I’m Ruby.” I held out my hand. She looked at it, narrowed her gaze, and nodded.

  “You can call me Mrs. Burrow.” She eyed my bags. “You’ll be sleeping in the sewing room. There’ll be no hanky-panky in my house.”

  My face burned, and from the corner of my eye I saw Martin stifling a laugh behind his hands.

  “Come on, Rubes, I’ll show you the way.”

  The sewing room was cosy and had an old, blue fold-out couch for a bed.

  Martin laughed again when he saw my face. “When Aunt Em’s reading erotica she thinks everyone around her is having banging hot sex.”

  I laughed but felt weird when our eyes met, as if Martin would be able to see in them that I was no longer a virgin. So I bent down and started to unpack my bags as a distraction, but, when I got to the underwear, shoved it all back in and zipped it up.

  “Relax.” Martin laughed. “We’re friends, right? I’m not going to maul you or anything, I promise.” He scratched his chin. “Although, I have been watching way too many vampire flicks since I got here so make sure you cover your neck at all times.”

  My cheeks heated even more. “Sorry. I�
��m just…I don’t know, being stupid.”

  “So, what do you wanna do? We could walk into Freo and have a coffee on the cappuccino strip. It’s an absolute must.”

  “Cool…um, you mean right now?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Unless you’re tired from driving and want to have a nanna-nap or something.”

  “Nope.” I tied up my laces and then grabbed my phone and purse. During this time Martin managed to find a shirt and shoes and we were ready.

  The walk was nice, loads of pretty old houses, even older than the ones in Donny Vale, and lots of people walking dogs and children in prams. Plenty of old trees too. Moreton Bays and pine trees, mainly. Fremantle was kind of like a huge, bustling country town with the added freshness of the salty sea breeze.

  By the time we got to the cappuccino strip, I was sweaty and hot so we decided to sit outside in the breeze and get granitas instead of lattes. I chose the lemon and Martin picked cranberry, which made his lips turn a deep red, but he also added two short black coffees to the order, not wanting me to miss out on the ‘coffee experience of a lifetime.’ He also said that he thought the barista looked at him funny when they only ordered granitas. Martin was still the eternal blender, always wanting to fit in.

  “So what have you been up to?” he asked when we settled in our alfresco seats.

  I watched the traffic zoom by while I tried to think of what I’d been up to other than obsessing about the whereabouts of Byron.

  “Don’t tell me you hooked up with that guy. He’s so not right for you.” Martin shook his head and took a sip of his granita, his face reddening all of a sudden. “You’re only going to end up hurt.”

  “How can you say that when you don’t even know the guy?” I pushed my granita aside in protest. Why was he bringing this up when we were supposed to be mending our friendship?

  Martin laughed bitterly. “Like you know him any better.” He snorted air through his nose and then turned his head to mumble something at the traffic. It sounded like, “I bet he didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” I leaned across the table and wrapped my hand around Martin’s tanned wrist. “Don’t tell me you know his secret too?”