The Do-Gooder

by Jessie L. Star

  He rifled through the first few pages and quickly began to dismiss the deeds themselves as unimportant. It was Lara's comments that caught his interest; her take on the good deed recipient, her understanding of the motives for their deed, and the steps she would take to achieve what was needed, it was all there. These notes, whilst thorough, were not judgemental. There was no difference in the way she'd recorded the shallow (I'm too lazy to buy a present for my girlfriend, can you do it?) deeds, from the way she'd noted down the more worthwhile (my brother's been diagnosed with diabetes could you help me make him realise that it's not the end of the world?) sorts of requests. She treated them all the same.

  This professional sort of distance she maintained from the deeds she carried out came as no surprise. No, it was Lara's ingenuity, her ability to take a problem and squeeze every last suggestion of a solution out of it, which really struck him as he read. He'd always known she was good at what she did, but he'd never seen it laid out so clearly in this way. She wasn't just good at problem solving, he realised after a few minutes, she was bloody amazing at it.

  He could try and deny this aspect of Lara all he liked, but the truth was that the way she wrote in Big Blue showed just how much thought she gave to people's needs; cutting to the core of their request with seeming ease. She was also funny and up for anything; positive in a way Fletch had never really considered her to be. He was starting to feel like he had the night before when the paramedics had been asking the questions about Lara that he couldn't answer. With each new page he oscillated between 'I know her so well' and 'I don't know her at all', a sensation that made him feel more motion sick than the unpredictable waves he rode ever had.

  He disregarded the names of the good deed recipients as he continued to scan the folder, both uninterested in the people who went to Lara for help and, in some small way, trying not to undermine the confidentiality that she was so strict on. About halfway through the folder, however, he realised that he'd only been able to ignore the names so easily because he hadn't known most of them. When a name he knew very well appeared, there was no dismissing it.

  Saskia Townsend, she'd written in fierce, defiant strokes so different from the rest of her neat print.

  And so there it was. Proof of what he'd suspected for a couple of weeks now, ever since he'd seen Saskia in the yellow dress and found out she was working at one of Lara's favourite stores. Lara had taken his sister on as a good deed.

  Seeing Saskia's name in Big Blue, after having told Lara that he specifically didn't want her involved, it was...complicated. Thinking that Lara and Saskia were going behind his back and knowing it were two very different things, this he realised almost immediately. Having it as just a vague niggle at the back of his mind had meant that he was able to shove it away and focus on something else, usually Lara herself, but he was paying for his cowardice now. He didn't know what would've happened if he'd confronted Lara with his suspicions when they first arose, but it would've had to be better than it adding yet another layer to the current situation.

  With a sort of fascinated dread, he lowered his eyes back to the folder and started to read. It was all there; Saskia's isolation both at school and at home, her love of fashion, and the details of her shifts at Za-Za's. Lara'd driven her to work Monday to Friday, he saw, seeing his sister from a to b in a way none of his family had ever bothered to.

  Some parts he didn't understand, like the scribbled note that said: favours balconette, c not b, but when he got to the section on Saskia's lizard scum boyfriend, he understood just fine. Lara had been succinct, but damning in her record of his sister's older boyfriend: Lizard Boy AKA Russ. 18? 19? Pill dropper. Saskia wagging work to be with him. Controlling? Abusive?

  She'd crossed out the last word, but Fletch found himself staring at it for several seconds anyway, the sick feeling in his stomach intensifying. Controlling? Abusive? He'd filed Saskia's boyfriend away under the heading 'run-of-the-mill try-hard' in his mind, he'd never considered... Shit.

  He knew exactly what had happened. The way Saskia stalked about, seemingly in control of everything, had fooled him in the way it never had with Lara. Because Saskia acted so much older, he'd let himself be sucked in, but she was still only just 15, what the hell had he been doing letting her muck around with that arsehole?

  He remembered how angry he'd been when Lara had first suggested she look into helping Saskia and felt a punch of what was, undeniably, shame. There were times when he thought his jaw still hurt from how tightly he'd ground his teeth together at the idea of Saskia being a pawn in Lara's screwed up need for atonement, but here she was clearly being the only one who was bothering to keep an eye on his sister. He was the one who couldn't let the past go and had ended up not seeing the genuine good Lara was doing. If it hadn't been so messed up, it would've been funny.

  He read and re-read Saskia's page several times, until he couldn't take it anymore and forced himself to flip on. He'd lost his appetite for reading up on other deeds now, though. Information on anyone else paled in comparison to what he'd found out about Saskia.

  Listlessly, he flicked through the remaining pages, about to close up Big Blue when a different lay-out caught his eye. There was no heading and Lara's writing was the most erratic he'd ever seen it on this page, but he remained fairly uninterested until the words 'Fletcher Townsend' caught his eye. Then he became very interested indeed.

  It started with Lara's usual flair for the blunt: Fletcher Townsend is a cruel, self-righteous coward, and only got worse from there.

  She eviscerated him; ripping into his appearance, his family, his friends, everything; hitting his weak spots with unerring accuracy. She said he was an exact copy of his father, that his mother left because of him, that he'd only been friends with Donny to get to her; every little fear and doubt that he had shelved away she brought out into the light to use against him.

  If finding Lara practically unconscious the night before and then having his thoughts on her deeds turned upside down was an ambush attack, reading this litany of bile against him was like staggering round a corner and finding the same mob waiting to kick him to the ground again. As he read it over a couple of times, as he had with Saskia's page, he found that he was holding his breath, and had an almost hysterical moment as he wondered what Lara's response would be if he sent her a text saying he couldn't breathe. Judging from the content of the page before him her response was likely to be succinct: good.

  He was on his fourth read, his fists clenched, his jaw tight, when his phone started to ring from the passenger seat. Merry had been calling on and off ever since the previous night, but for one mad moment, he was absolutely convinced that it would be Lara calling to tell him personally all the things she despised about him. He snatched up the mobile, but as he turned it over, it was to see Saskia's number flashing up.

  He almost threw the phone back down, in no fit state to talk to anyone, let alone his sister who was such a big part of the meltdown he was currently having. Still, if there was one thing he'd promised himself he'd always do for Saskia, it was answer when she called, so he reluctantly lifted it to his ear.

  "Hey," he said gruffly, his eyes unwillingly straying back to his own personal hate page, skimming the line: he's abandoned his own sister, too busy surfing and having a good time to give a damn about what she's going through.

  "Fletch?" The voice on the other end of the line didn't sound anything like Saskia, it was weak and unsure.

  "What's up with you?" He asked, before the full impact of her wavery tone and what he'd just read about her sunk in and he lifted his eyes off Big Blue to add, more urgently, "What's wrong?"

  There was a horribly dense pause and then she said, sounding very small and far away, "Can you come get me?"

  What the hell? She never asked.

  "Yeah," he'd tossed Lara's folder to one side and his fingers were already scrabbling at his keys, turning them in the ignition as he asked, "where are you?"

  "On Harlow Road."
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  "Whereabouts?"

  She let out a strangled little noise that might've been an attempt at a laugh. "You can't miss it, it's the big grey building with a sign saying Police on it."

  Chapter 21 – Actions Have Consequences

  I was discharged from hospital the following morning, by which time I was champing at the bit to get the hell out. I might have been tired and sore in more ways than I'd previously thought possible, but after the conversation with my mum and a subsequent night chock-full of introspection, I was also more than ready to get on with things.

  The abiding point was this: I hadn't had Big Blue within my grasp for coming on 40 hours now, and the world hadn't ended.

  So, as the time had ticked by without hordes of people in need of a good deed beating at my door, I'd ended up doing a fair bit of digging around in my psyche. This hadn't been a linear affair, in fact it hadn't even always been a conscious one as I'd slipped in and out of sleep to the point where I was hard-pressed to distinguish my actual thoughts from dreams. Awake or not, however, the time had been undeniably productive. The last few weeks had broken me down piece by piece until, trapped in my hospital bed, I'd been forced to give each part of myself a hard look, a bit of a shine, and then to put it back where it belonged. Once reassembled, one thing became pretty blindingly obvious.

  I wanted Fletch.

  It was selfish maybe, because while I'd figured out that what I wanted beyond anything else was to see him, he was making it perfectly clear that he didn't want to see me, but there it was. I missed him. After weeks spent so much in his company, I felt his absence tangibly, sorely. I missed the way he knew when to touch me and when to give me space, when to just shake his head and go with it and when to call me on my shit. Mum and Merry had had their impact, but it was Fletch I needed now; to talk him through the revelations of the past couple of days and to cop from him what I was undeniably due in return.

  This realisation of the uncomplicated 'want Fletch now' thing felt, to be honest, like a much improved version of how I'd felt emerging from Donny's funeral all those years ago, when I'd been firm in the decision to start doing something to make up for all the crap I'd pulled. There was an undeniable relief in having a plan and my plan at this point was simple: find Fletch. Immediately.

  Unfortunately, it was clear by the way Mum firmly escorted me from her car to my building after my release, that her plan differed from mine. Her idea for the next few hours presumably included a great deal more convalescence, something she appeared ready to enforce as her arm around my waist was less for support, I felt, than to ensure I didn't bolt. No denying she had me sussed.

  As I felt frustration at this hold up start to make my teeth clench, I took a steadying breath and reminded myself that Mum had been incredibly patient with me over the years, and that it was time to start repaying her in kind. Besides, the less stressed I appeared, the more likely she'd leave me to myself, making it easier to make good my escape.

  I'd just started concocting a plan wherein I would feign sleep in the hopes that Mum would go on home and I could race round to Fletch's, when we exited the lift onto my floor and I saw something that made my heart drop. The whiteboard affixed to my door was covered in texta scrawls. Apparently, if I wasn't there to wipe off the best efforts of the Slut Scrawlers, they just built up. It was rubbish timing and I hung my head, knowing there was no way I could race across and clean it off before Mum saw it.

  "Oh," I heard her exclaim, and I hunched my shoulders in a bit tighter.

  "It's fine, I don't care," I mumbled, but she ignored me, releasing my arm and hurrying forward.

  "Isn't that lovely?"

  It was what?

  I looked up in surprise and then slowly went to join her, my eyes narrowing as I realised that the marks on the board were different from usual. There was no mention of my supposed whorishness, no, today they were…well, they were get well messages. Barely any of the white surface remained clear as dozens of different handwritings proclaimed their best wishes and hopes that I'd be back on my feet in no time. As far as I could see, the word 'slut' didn't appear once. Extraordinary.

  "Lara!"

  I barely had time to lift my stunned gaze from the 'you're awesome, get better soon!' message I'd been reading, before what felt like a veritable octopus-worth of arms engulfed me in a tight hug. I stiffened automatically, but then swiftly instructed myself to loosen up. The light perfume, mousy brown hair and impeccably tailored jacket told me that I was being embraced by Merry, Livvy and Stefano respectively; there was no need to freak out.

  I gave a couple of the backs available to me a brief pat and, after a few more seconds, my huggers stepped back to present me with their beaming faces.

  "She lives!" Stefano exclaimed, eliciting a spontaneous round of applause from the other two.

  "Oh and look at all the messages!" Livvy cried gleefully, making the other two bustle over to inspect my well-wishes too.

  "Yeah, did you…?" I started to ask, looking at Merry a little uncomfortably as I was very aware of my mother standing right beside me.

  I had no need to worry, however, as Merry held her hands up in a 'not me' sort of way and shook her head. "I had nothing to do with it," she said with a smirk. "This is just genuinely all the people you've helped out hoping you get well soon after seeing you getting carted off in an ambulance. A bit of a kick to the guts to your 'woe is me, I'm soooo unpopular' theory, hey?"

  I rolled my eyes, but didn't argue because, as usual, she was right. "So, what are you doing here?" I asked instead, trying to sound as nice about it as I could, despite them appearing to add yet another block in my path to seeking out Fletch.

  "We're here for our shift," Merry said, as if it should've been obvious. "Your mum's been looking after you at the hospital," she leant round me to wave at the person in question, who had stopped reading my whiteboard to watch our interaction with interest. "And now we're taking our turn. We know what you're like and how you'll want to rush back out and get on with things, but you need to rest and recover and we're here to make sure you do."

  No! I pushed down my panic at the concept of being held hostage by multiple gaolers and began, "That's really not-"

  "That would be great," Mum finished for me. "It's nice to see you again, Merry."

  There followed a babble of introductions and comments to the tune of 'isn't Lara such a bad invalid?' that went on for so long I thought I was going to scream, sore throat be damned!

  Perhaps feeling the heat as my blood started to boil, Merry shot me a quick look and then jabbed a discrete elbow into Stefano's back. As if this was a pre-determined signal between them, he immediately slung a familiar arm around my Mum's shoulders in response, and began to steer her towards the lift. Such was his skill, I doubt she even realised she was being hustled away as he never once broke off his inane chatter about how he felt sure I got my looks from her.

  "…because you don't often see that golden depth in brunettes, must be a genetic thing, well, it was great to meet you," he jauntily jabbed the button to call the lift. "We've got Lara from here and I promise we'll take good care of her. Drive safely."

  I'd been motionless with a certain sort of awe watching Stefano so efficiently dispatch my mother, but as the lift arrived, I roused myself to call over, "Thanks for everything. I'll call you tomorrow."

  Mum seemed to finally catch on to her imminent departure and her face was a picture of slightly flustered amusement as she said, "Well...alright then, it was lovely meeting you all. Bye, sweetheart, take care of yourself."

  The whole group of us smiled and waved in a pantomime of jovial farewell, and then the metal doors jerked shut and she was gone. Much as I loved her, I sagged slightly with the relief of being finally rid of my mum; Lord knows how Donny had coped during all those years of her hovering over him. It was a strange moment of connection to the brother I'd so determinedly not thought of for years, strange, but truthfully, not as awful as I'd always thought it would be i
f I let thoughts of him creep in.

  Tucking that realisation away to examine later in greater detail, I turned to face the others, preparing to enact my 'pretend to sleep, sneak out to find Fletch' plan with them instead. I hadn't had the chance to stage so much as a fake yawn, however, when Merry clapped her hands in a business-like manner.

  "Right, Livvy, you go to the window and make sure she's gone, Stefano you're on wardrobe. Come on, Lara, don't just stand there, we've got a boy to hunt down, don't we?"

  I stared back at her, dumbfounded at this sudden change of pace, before saying uncertainly, "Hang on, what-?"

  "Don't worry, that whole rest and recovery thing was just for your mum's benefit," Merry interrupted briskly, shepherding me into my room as she spoke. "The way we see it, if we don't help you track down Fletch you're just going to pretend to go to the toilet and then jump out the window or something to escape us, aren't you?"

  I slowly nodded the truth of it as there was apparently no reason to lie.

  "So we're here to chaperone, you know, just to make sure you don't drop dead or whatever on your way to patch things up with Fletch. Besides, this campus is teeming with people we like," she added pointedly, "we're not having you driving around skittling people off the bonnet of your car because you're half-cut from whatever drugs they gave you in hospital."

  As I took in her words I started to smile, hesitantly at first, but then with more conviction until I was virtually grinning; something I definitely wouldn't have thought was possible not that long ago.

  "You're going to rule the world one day, Merry, you know that, right?" I said honestly.

  "'Course I do," Merry replied smugly, before giving me a little push towards the bathroom. "Now get a move on, time's a-wasting."