All the Ways to Here

by Emily O'Beirne

“There are plenty of things you could do and still come home early. Go the movies. Go out for dinner.” Anita leans against the counter, giving her a sober look. “Look, I know Willa’s got a lot of troubles at the moment, but you don’t always have to be involved. You seem to be there all the time. What about your other friends?”

  For a moment, Finn can only stare. “Why are you all of a sudden anti-Willa? I thought you liked her.”

  “Of course I do. She’s lovely. I’m just not sure you need to be taking on someone else’s responsibilities when you have enough of your own.”

  “Since when is helping someone who is having a hard time a bad thing?” Anger flushes Finn’s cheeks for the second time tonight. “And what if I don’t want to go out? I mean, I guess I could sit here in the empty house and wait for you to come home?”

  There’s a flicker of a warning look, but Anita opts for resignation at the last moment. “Look, I’m just saying that you need to have some of your own time too. You can’t always be doing things for—”

  She stops abruptly as Riley skips into the kitchen, a DVD in her hand and the dogs at her feet. “They’re so cute. Can they come with us?”

  “Sorry, mate. But we can take them for a walk on the weekend, okay?” Finn gives her mum a look, daring her to be annoyed by yet another babysitting promise. But Anita’s staring at the counter, her fingernails drumming the dark-green surface. She looks tired and over it. So is everybody today, apparently. “Okay, I’m going to get my laptop, and then we’ll go.” Finn gives her mother a stony look as she passes. “And before you ask, I’m taking my bike. And, yes, I have my lights and helmet, and I’ll be home by ten.”

  She stalks into her bedroom before Anita can reply.

  CHAPTER 34

  Willa

  Willa stares at Finn’s rough little drawing of the lamp-lit kitchen. She still cannot get over Finn’s talent sometimes, the way she’s sketched the window and the sink and the garlic plait with a soft grey lead. It looks so cosy and welcoming, like a picture in a book.

  The real kitchen is not too bad either. The dinner mess has been cleared, and the dishes are all stacked on the dish rack. By sheer Finn miracle, Riley actually helped clean up without whining. It gets better too: there’s leftover pizza in the fridge for school lunches, and both her brother and sister are in bed. Willa’s hell day is nearly over. Only it doesn’t seem quite as hellish any more.

  She wants to flinch when she thinks about how she acted before, how close she came to messing up things with Finn. It was so dumb and so…mean, snapping at her like that. But it was like the stress was stealing Willa’s brains and breath. And then when Finn left, clattering down the steps, there was this shipwrecked feeling in its place. But when Finn came back to her, Willa’s breath came back too. And she knows just how lucky she is that her girlfriend and her gigantic heart came back at all.

  Finn takes her time reading, her eyes slowly scanning the screen. After what feels like an eternity, she turns to Willa with a smile. “I can’t see a single comma out of place.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. It’s time to put this baby in the ground.” She pushes the laptop back to her. “It’s really good too.”

  Willa’s saving her essay to her USB when the front door opens and closes. She grits her teeth, a sitting duck to the coming awkwardness.

  When he sees them, he pauses in the doorway.

  Willa does her best to muster normal from somewhere. “Hey, Dad. You remember Finn?”

  “Yeah, of course. G’day.” He gives Finn a brief nod.

  “Hello.” Finn’s greeting is not her usual off-the-cuff friendly, and Willa instantly regrets what she said earlier. Not that it matters. He’s gone before it can turn weird. He cuts straight across the kitchen and out the back door. Seconds later, she hears the spray of the hose.

  “Let’s go to my room.” Willa grabs up her books.

  Upstairs, Riley’s fast asleep, her arm dangling from the top bunk as she snores gently. Willa lifts it gently back onto the mattress and crawls onto her own bunk. She flicks a switch, and their small corner is filled with the sweet glow of the miniature chain of fairy lights dangling from the slats. Maida put them there for her on her birthday a couple of months ago. Willa loves reading by their twilit comfort, even if Nan’s always saying she’ll go blind.

  “Cute.” Finn touches the tiny bulbs. “Cosy.”

  Willa pulls down the little curtain she’s fashioned at one end. “So the light doesn’t wake Riley.” She smooths a finger over Finn’s cheek, even more freckled from all the sunshine lately, and whispers, “I owe you a million, zillion favours after tonight.”

  “No, you only owe me one.” Finn’s smile is instantly playful. “Two, actually.”

  “Which are?” There’s no saying what Finn will come up with, with that look on her face.

  “Come out with me and Dan and Rosie on the weekend. Even just for a quick coffee.”

  “Done,” Willa says. “But just so you know, I feel totally awkward already.”

  “I know you do. But you’re amazing, and they’ll think you’re amazing. Just try not to be shy-slash-surly Willa, and you’ll be fine.”

  “So, what’s the second favour?”

  “Lie down with me for a little while before I have to go home.”

  “I would have done that anyway.” Willa curls in close, and the way Finn smiles, indulged and sleepy, makes her feel fudge-y and warm.

  “You look happier,” Finn says as she strokes Willa’s arm.

  “I am happier.”

  “Good.”

  They lie there, wrapped in this new, potent calm. Willa’s fingers dance the smooth tract of skin from Finn’s shoulder up the side of her neck. She studiously tries to ignore the pale runnel of Finn cleavage, tempting her eyes down to the small swells of her breasts. This is probably not the time for lecherous Willa to be making an appearance. Not when her sister’s asleep half a metre from them. And not when Willa’s pretty sure such Finn terrains are still no-go zones. Still, she can’t stop her mind going there sometimes.

  “Hey, what’s wrong with your friend?” Finn asks.

  “Huh?” Willa wrenches her mind back to the room.

  “You said something before about Eva.”

  Talk about a mood killer. She drops her head on the pillow and tells Finn about lunch today. Well, about Eva’s non-lunch. And everything else. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you think her friends have noticed the same thing?

  “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe you could talk to one of them?”

  “Maybe.” Willa can’t imagine having an actual serious conversation with Amira about something like that. How would she even begin?

  Finn traces Willa’s bottom lip with the very tip of her index finger. She always does that. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad was funny about us?” she asks suddenly.

  “Because it doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Willa picks at a splinter on one of the bunk slats. “I wish he wasn’t here.”

  “Really?”

  “I do. Because I know he hates being here. But sometimes I want to tell him he doesn’t get to be pissed about it. I want to tell him to stop hiding out in the backyard and to pretend to want to hang out with us. I want to tell him to talk to Riley sometimes and to notice that Jack follows him everywhere. That he could at least pretend to be their dad for a couple more weeks.”

  “Then tell him.”

  “I can’t.” Willa swallows hard, staring at the tiny cluster of lights above her head. She forces herself to speak the thoughts that have swirled so long. “Because what if he hates me for it and he doesn’t come back? What if something happens to Nan again and he doesn’t come because of what I said?”

  “He’ll come back.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t, I guess.”

  Suddenly, Willa’s assaulted by more hot, embarrassing tears.

  “Oh, Wil
l.” Finn presses her face close to her cheek.

  Willa swipes a tear away and takes a deep, steadying breath. She loves that Finn doesn’t try to give her a solution. That she knows silence is a gift you can give too.

  Finn’s hand drops around her waist like an anchor. Warm air and the sounds of distant traffic float through the open window. Lulled by slow breaths on her neck, Willa lets herself sink back into this fragile little happiness for a minute.

  When the outside world has completely surrendered to night-time quiet, Finn sits up. “I’ve got to go. I don’t want Mum on my back again.”

  “Why is she on your back?”

  “Never mind.” Finn leans over her, frowning as she smooths Willa’s hair from her forehead. “I’m sorry I have to leave.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Thank you,” she whispers again. “Again.”

  Finn doesn’t say anything. Just kisses Willa like she’s fixing her, slow and soft.

  ~ ~ ~

  Later, when Willa’s still trying to search out sleep among the mess of thoughts, loud music crashes into the silence again. Her mind instantly turns to Kelly. Poor Kell. She’ll have just finished work and is probably huddled in her bed, cursing her brother. Willa picks up her phone to tell her to come and sleep over here if she needs.

  There’s a message from Finn.

  I think you need to tell your dad what you’re scared of.

  Willa draws in a breath. Maybe.

  CHAPTER 35

  Finn

  Another Sunday, another drive to the eastern suburbs to endure her grandmother. Why couldn’t Finn have won Nan in the great grandparent lottery, instead of a cranky, narrow-minded homophobe?

  Every time they go to the seniors’ village where she lives, Finn sits there, listening to the painstaking small talk, and tries to hunt out a redeeming feature. But she can’t find one. Not a single one. Well, except for her dad. Finn’s always trying to figure out how her super-chilled, lefty Dad came from this woman.

  Finn’s barely spoken to her mother since Thursday night. Mostly because she’s barely seen her, but also because she’s still kind of mad about Anita being weird about Willa. But trapped in the car speeding down the Eastern freeway, there’s no escaping her mother’s need to have a discussion about everything.

  “So, how’s Willa doing?” Anita asks finally.

  And there it is.

  “She’s okay. Better.” Finn gives her mum a sideways look. “Considering what a hard time she’s been having.”

  Anita turns and smiles at her. “I sense I’m being taken on a guilt trip.”

  Finn doesn’t answer. Pointedly.

  “I’m also sensing that someone thinks it’s completely deserved.”

  “Mum, do you know what time Willa has been getting up every day since Nan got hurt?”

  Anita doesn’t say anything, just glances at Finn like she’s waiting, like she knows she doesn’t need to answer this one.

  “Five-thirty. She gets up an hour-and-a-half earlier than we do so she can finish her homework and her academic leader stuff. She does that so that at night, after she picks up the kids from wherever they are and does the shopping and cooks dinner and makes lunches and does washing, her homework’s done. The only time she has to herself is after they go to sleep, and she never gets to go out. She’s probably always tired, but she never complains.”

  “I get it, Finn. And I really do feel for her, you know.”

  Finn stares at the droplet of coffee rolling around the top of her takeaway lid. “I just don’t get how can you find anything wrong with me wanting to help someone, someone who is a really good person and who doesn’t deserve what’s happened to her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it at all. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I was just being protective of you. You’ve always had a habit of taking on everything, and between Willa and that community centre project and Speech Night, all you seem to be doing is working.”

  “So? I like helping.” How the hell has her mother managed to make an issue of this? Most mums would be happy their daughter’s not being a selfish turd. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. It’s a gorgeous quality. But maybe I don’t want you to turn out to be a workaholic like me. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I do want you to have some fun sometimes.”

  “Willa’s not work.”

  She sighs. “I know. And I like Willa, I do.”

  Finn frowns into the sun’s glare. Doesn’t her mother get that it doesn’t matter if she likes her or not? That they’re way past the point of parental approval? Willa’s a fixture. A delicious inevitability. Sometimes it’s like there’s this chasm between what her mother sees and Finn feels, no matter how hard Anita thinks she’s paying attention.

  “I also worry because things are going to get even harder to juggle when you start Year 11 next year. VCE is no joke.”

  “I know that.” As if her teachers aren’t already harping on it. “At least it won’t be a complete shock to me like it will be for some of the other kids. Being a geek does have its merits.”

  Anita chuckles. “True.”

  “I think it’s time we face the fact I’m never going to be a rebellious teenager. It’s also a little weird that I’m more resigned to it than you are. But you’ll get there. I’ve got faith in you.”

  “Very funny.”

  They drive into a tunnel, and the world turns dark and close for a moment. Finn blinks into the sunlight as they charge out the other side. “I love being with Willa, even if we don’t always get to do fun stuff. And I like hanging out with Riley and Jack too. I like being at their house with them. It’s nice there, even when Willa’s stressed.”

  There’s a silence as Anita negotiates the freeway exit. “You don’t like being at home much right now, do you?”

  Finn looks out the window so she doesn’t have to see her mother’s face when she says it. “Not really.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Willa

  The ball careens over the stubby grass, chased down by a crowd of kids, all elbows out and eyes fixed on the black-and-white rolling prize.

  Dan claps as one of them charges the ball. “I never thought I’d get into soccer. The players are all too sporty and fit, and they make me feel like the pasty chunk I am. But this?” He waves at the game in front of them. “This I can do. Kid soccer is totally my speed.”

  “Look at that little guy.” Finn points at a kid trailing the pack, his limbs going all over the place. “He’s horrible, and I love him for it. Because I’d be him.”

  Willa laughs and feels a pinch of pride when Jack is the first to reach the ball, bringing it under control with some sleight of foot.

  “I just can’t get used to the soccer mums.” Rosie stares at the gaggle of parents clustered by the fence next to them. “They’re so into it.”

  The minute they arrived and found a spot to settle on the grass, a polite, officious woman marched over and requested that they please move to the side. Apparently, they’d inadvertently chosen the sacred site where the Mummy Cheer Squad gathers every single week to sit. And from the tone by which they were informed of this egregious invasion, Willa can only assume the Mummy Cheer Squad is a capital letter kind of thing and that it totally usurps Big Sister and her Bunch of Randoms Cheer Squad, even just by sheer numbers. So they moved.

  “The only player I know is Beckham,” Finn says. “But I don’t even know if he still plays or just swans around advertising things and looking hot.”

  “And that Spanish one,” Rosie adds, “with the tatts.”

  “Oh, yeah, he’s super hot. Like, he knows it, but still.” Finn turns to Willa and laughs, grabbing her hand.

  “What?”

  “You always look confused when I talk about guys.”

  “That’s probably because I am.”

  Finn’s smile is pure tease. “What if I say that a girl is hot?”

  “Then I’m jealous. Actually…” Willa reconsiders. “I’m jeal
ous either way. Doesn’t matter who.”

  It’s kind of a relief that Finn looks more excited by this statement than anything.

  “Noted,” she says with that same teasing grin.

  Willa pulls Finn’s hand into her lap. Because Finn looks like sunshine today in her cut-offs and yellow T-shirt, a pair of giant sunglasses covering her eyes. Like summer itself.

  “Your brother’s pretty damn good,” Dan says to Willa after Jack gets another go at goal. “In my completely nonexpert opinion, of course.”

  “He is.” She gives Dan the friendliest smile she can muster. She’s been hyperconscious of smiling all day, trying to combat her salty Willa image.

  Finn looks at her like she’s amused at how hard Willa’s working. Willa narrows her eyes, but Finn just laughs.

  It’s not so hard to smile with Dan and Rosie, though. For starters, they were totally okay with combining the meet-the-girlfriend event with kiddie soccer so Willa could still get to Jack’s game. And they’re really nice. Dan’s funny and goofy, and Willa likes seeing him and Finn do their bff act. You can see all the history and love under the tease and banter.

  Finn’s already told her how Dan used to be much shyer. How he always used to pick on himself, and how he didn’t even tell her about the YouTube channel he created in Year 8 to talk about his deep, abiding love of sci-fi. Didn’t say a word until he had thousands of followers and had become some kind of geek-boy star. Only then did his confidence finally grow.

  “Into outright ego,” Finn had joked.

  Willa and Jack watched one of his videos last night, her self-appointed homework for this meeting. She’d never seen the film Dan was talking about in it, so even though he was witty and animated, she got bored easily. Jack kept watching them all night, though.

  The game’s nearly over when Riley comes back from wherever she’s been parading Banjo and Patter, her walk all high importance, now she has something to boss around. “I had to pick up poo,” she announces.

  “Thank you for sharing that information,” Willa tells her.

  “Not with your bare hands, I hope.” Dan pulls a face and leans away from her.