Sixty Seconds

by Jesse Blackadder

  It’s not possible. You know that. So you decide to suspend disbelief. You disengage the part of your mind that would dismantle the sensation, and you immerse yourself in the dream of it.

  Only it’s not feeling like a dream.

  You enter the water, slipping in silently in the dark, and you could swear Toby has run a small hand down your arm, or patted your cheek. You could swear to hearing his voice in the gurgles the water makes around your body. You could swear he’s happy when you come into the water, and that he yearns for you when you leave.

  The water lapping your body has travelled across the world for millennia. Falling as rain, evaporating, rising, condensing, falling again. Outside, in the air, your rage at Finn rises up. In the water that all drops away. In the water are love and grief; in the water are the world’s sorrows. In the water you’re in the womb again yourself, you remember your own foetal floating and then Toby floating inside you, and now you’re floating inside him, your roles reversed. Images wash around you: reeds and plants, fish swimming, water that’s clear, with a green light. Bubbles. Tranquillity. Microbes.

  The pump clicks on with a jolt and the water gurgles and swirls, interrupting the silence. The system runs automatically at different points during the night to use off-peak electricity, and tonight its timing has coincided with your visit. The mechanical whirr grinds into the dreamy underwater world, disturbing it.

  You surface, the moment broken. The throb of the pump means you can’t hear Toby any more and you feel the grief of losing him again.

  As you rise on the step, you return to gravity’s pain. You trail your fingers in the water, saying good night. Then you step out, your toes reluctant to break the last contact with the water, and you towel yourself dry.

  You detour to the pump house, grab the power cord and yank it from its socket. The pump splutters into silence, the water in the pumps gurgling back to rest. As a test, you return to the pool edge and lower a foot onto the step. Whatever trace of Toby you felt is gone, sucked away through the machine.

  At the computer you swizzle the mouse until the screen lights up. Think for a moment. Type in a search term. And though you didn’t know quite what you were looking for, what you wanted pops up. A picture of a swimming pool transformed into a pond. Reeds, water plants, fish. Clear, green-tinted water. Bubbles. Just like your underwater imagining.

  According to the descriptions, it’s not hard. Turn off the pumps, wait for the water to go green, introduce plants and fish, let them establish a new balance. You could still swim in it. Some local councils are apparently helping people transform their unused swimming pools into natural ponds. Beautification, economy and a backyard ecosystem. It takes a few weeks. You could do it. You could bring it back to life.

  FINN

  Finn clenched his jaw and willed his hands to stop shaking. Lowered the mask over his eyes, steadied the torch, applied it to the join and squeezed the trigger. The mask snapped to black as molten metal spat and splashed in eerie electric green. The dreaded replay of images that welding always prompted was just beginning when a sharp sting and the smell of burning made him jump back, dropping the torch.

  The weather was too hot for full protective gear and a piece of hot slag had hit and rolled down his bare arm, searing a path. As Finn pushed back the mask, the metal lump fell to the floor and he grimaced at the stink of burned hair. He’d have a streak of blister now, and his concentration was shot.

  His concentration was non-existent anyway. Finn peered at the weld line. He could barely remember why he was trying to join those two pieces of metal. He rubbed his eyes, breathed in and out a few times. Fought down the livid images by focusing on his burned arm.

  Somehow, with Tom’s help, he’d finished the first commission and sent it off. What remained of Dragon Sentry was now gone from his life. This new piece was the commission for the barrister, in lieu of the first raft of legal bills. He needed this one, and more, to pay those costs and have any chance of getting his family out of here. And, irrationally, it felt like if he got the sculpture done, he’d ward off the risk of jail.

  He heard the pool gate click. Tom had promised to help again. It wasn’t that he needed help, but it felt like nothing bad could happen if Tom were there, and Finn was less likely to regress into memories. Tom, sensing this somehow, had set himself the task of sorting Finn’s scrap metal by size and type, the bigger pieces into crates, the smaller into a wooden type-drawer Finn had found at a long-ago garage sale. It was a slow, steady job Tom was obviously spinning out. Finn was grateful.

  ‘Hello, Finn?’ a woman’s voice called.

  Finn stepped to the door. Tom was walking across the pool area, followed by his mother, Angela. She smiled as they drew close.

  ‘Good news,’ she said. ‘I wanted to tell you in person.’

  As Finn peeled the safety mask off, Angela nudged Tom. ‘Go put some coffee on while I talk to Finn.’

  She waited until Tom reached the far gate. ‘There’s been another offer. A good one.’ She named a figure not far below the price Finn and Bridget had paid.

  ‘But …’ Finn couldn’t take it in. ‘When did they see it?’

  ‘Didn’t need to,’ she said. ‘Investors. It fits their formula and they’re happy with the building report. But they’re hard-nosed. They’ll buy if you exchange today and waive the cooling-off period. So you need to be sure.’

  Finn’s legs felt weak. ‘Can we sit?’

  Angela followed him through the pool area and onto the verandah. Finn lowered himself to the couch and waved her to a chair.

  Angela sat. ‘I hope this isn’t too much pressure. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?’

  Finn shook his head. ‘Christ, no.’

  ‘Good. They haven’t asked for any special conditions, just vacant possession, but I won’t be able to hold them longer than today.’

  ‘We can do it,’ Finn said, his mind starting to race. Could he find them a house in Tasmania before the trial? They could rent, he supposed, but something in him wanted to anchor the family while they recovered. Renting a home was just setting up something they knew they’d leave. No, they needed to buy something. Especially if he was going to end up in jail; he needed to know they were settled and safe.

  He remembered, suddenly, how it had felt to find the purple house the previous summer. A home full of colour and promise, like life opening up in new directions.

  ‘Tom will miss you,’ she said. ‘He and Jarrah have become good friends.’

  Finn saw the car pull up outside, heard the familiar sound of its door. Bridget, home at lunchtime on a weekday for some unfathomable reason. The moment of relief he’d felt at Angela’s news disappeared. He didn’t want to break the news to Bridget in front of someone else.

  Bridget walked into the garden, glanced up and visibly started at seeing them.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ Angela called out, standing.

  Finn waited until Bridget was on the verandah. ‘We have another buyer. Almost the full price.’

  Bridget literally whitened as he watched.

  ‘They’re serious,’ Angela said. ‘The only thing is, you’ll need to act today.’

  ‘Right,’ Bridget said.

  Angela gathered her bag. ‘I’ll leave you two to discuss it. The contract is with your solicitor ready to sign. You’ll need to do it by – oh, say, three pm – so the exchange can go through.’

  She called through to Tom and he came out of the kitchen, handing over Finn’s coffee, then joining his mother to walk across the lawn, out to the free world where people laughed and life went on.

  ‘Bridget.’

  Her face was turned away from him. ‘I don’t know how much more I can take.’

  Desperation rose in Finn. ‘We’ve got to go somewhere safe.’

  ‘Is this what you think Jarrah wants?’

  ‘He wants to leave this house. He told me. Anyhow, just look at him – he won’t even go into the pool area. He can’t live like
that. None of us can. And anyway, he needs us to be the parents and make the decision. He’s still a boy.’

  ‘What if you go to jail?’

  ‘All the more reason to go back. You and Jarrah can be somewhere familiar if the worst happens. My family will help. Anyhow, we won’t know for ages. We can’t wait here all that time.’

  It seemed to Finn that Bridget shuddered. ‘I don’t know if I can stand the Brennans’ help, Finn. And what about my mother?’

  ‘We’ll move her back too. She doesn’t know where she is. She won’t even know she’s been shifted after a few days.’

  ‘I just …’ She wrapped her arms around herself.

  Finn fought down panic. ‘You heard her. The deal’s only on the table today. If we take it we could afford to buy back into Hobart.’

  ‘Or pay your legal fees.’

  He reached out and took Bridget by the shoulders, forcing himself not to shake her. ‘This isn’t about my fucking legal fees! This house is destroying us!’

  She stared at him, eyes wide and shocked. He wondered if he’d frightened her, but there was no fear on her face. Just a vast distance. Like he was holding a stranger.

  He dropped his hands. ‘I don’t know you any more.’

  Her face crumpled and she buried it in her hands. Finn almost staggered with the pity that washed through him. He took a deep breath. Reached out again, gently this time. She let him fold her into his chest.

  ‘We can get through this,’ he said, his mouth against her hair.

  ‘What sort of people are they?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re investors. I don’t know much about them, and I don’t want to. At least they’re not trying to screw us.’

  He felt her shift against him and lift her head. She laid it on his shoulder, her face looking in the direction of the pool. He didn’t dare move. How long since she’d come to him?

  Then she took a shuddering breath in his arms and drew back. ‘All right.’

  ‘All right we can sell?

  She nodded. ‘As long as we can settle after Jarrah’s school term finishes.’

  Finn stared at her, hardly believing it. Relief started to wash through him. Was she coming back? Was it possible?

  He glanced at his watch. They still had a couple of hours, but he couldn’t risk her changing her mind. ‘We should go and sign.’

  ‘What about Jarrah?’

  ‘We’ll tell Jarrah tonight. We’ll involve him in whatever comes next, but you and I are making this decision.’

  ‘Investors won’t care about the house,’ she said, picking up her bag.

  ‘Not the way we did,’ Finn said. ‘Maybe that’s for the best.’ He put a careful, gentle hand to the small of her back, a light touch, encouraging her to move. ‘Shall we go?’

  She took a step, and another. And allowed him to take her hand.

  JARRAH

  ‘Hey, Jarrah!’ Tom was parked across the road from the school, elbow out the window. I dodged the cars, the parents, the squalls and squeals of the afternoon pick-up, and made it over in one piece.

  ‘Thought you might want a run?’

  Wanted to bury myself in a hole in the ground, but a run would do. Went around the car and got in. ‘Got no shoes.’

  ‘What about the beach? We can run barefoot.’

  I hated the beach, but Tom was already pulling out, and really I didn’t care much where we went. I slid down in my seat while he drove. I’d gone back to school eventually, after Laura left me in the dirt. Snuck into a bathroom, washed my face, waited for the next break and joined my class like I’d been there all along.

  But I felt shit. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t normal. Any boy would be over the moon at having sex with Laura Fieldman. Not me. I’d chucked it all away. No wonder I was such a loser.

  ‘Heard some news,’ Tom said.

  ‘Mm?’ Wasn’t really concentrating.

  ‘About your place. Looks like it’s sold. Another buyer came through.’

  ‘Another buyer?’

  He glanced across. ‘They don’t tell you much, do they?’ Rolled his eyes. ‘Mum’ll kill me, but I can’t stand it. The place was sold once, but the buyers pulled out at the last minute, after your dad was arrested. Another lot have made an offer. Your mum didn’t look so happy about the news.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I was there today when my mum told them.’

  Turned away and stared out the window, hardly seeing what was passing. What was Mum even doing home on a workday? They hadn’t said a word about selling the house. No one had ever come and looked at it, not when I was around. Christ, what else were they keeping secret? Even Tom knew more than me. Maybe they were going to break the news to me all at once. We’ve sold the house, darling, and we’re getting a divorce. Where was I going to end up? Didn’t want to go back to Tassie. After today, didn’t want to stay in Murwillumbah either.

  ‘You kept quiet,’ I said bitterly.

  ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

  He was so bloody calm. Never got worked up about anything.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Totally blew it today with Laura. She’ll never talk to me again.’

  ‘Can’t be that bad?’

  ‘It’s fucking worse. She hates my guts.’

  ‘And how do you feel about her?’

  That stopped me. Mostly I was so amazed she liked me, I never thought how I felt.

  ‘I dunno.’

  Tom braked to make a right. What was my problem with Laura? She was pretty, she liked me, she wanted to have sex with me. What was wrong with me? It was all fucked. That was the only word for it. Fucked, fucked, fucked.

  ‘What about your last girlfriend?’ I asked Tom as he turned on to the beach road. ‘Why’d you break up?’

  ‘Kristy?’ he said. ‘Dunno really. It started OK but in the end we both lost interest.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound so bad. Anyone break your heart?’

  He drummed his fingers on the wheel, then reached over and turned the radio up. It was a dumb question. Wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Sometimes it was like Tom was my age. Sometimes he was like an adult.

  ‘Don’t worry, I know about a broken heart,’ he said over the music. ‘You?’

  I felt a lump in my throat. Shook my head. Toby was the only one who broke my heart.

  Tom turned into the road that ran along Kingscliff Beach, passed the entry and headed south. Drove a few minutes past the houses and into the scrub. Parked on a patch of sand.

  ‘It’s a nor-easter,’ Tom said. ‘If we run into the wind, we’ll have it behind us on the way back.’

  The sky was overcast and the wind roared down the beach, throwing up spray from the big waves rolling in. I hoped Tom didn’t want us to swim – there wasn’t anyone around and the waves looked scary. We stretched for a few minutes. That was always boring and I didn’t know if it made any difference, but Tom did it and I followed.

  ‘You ready?’ he asked.

  I nodded and we set off, him leading the way down the dune through the soft sand. It was tough going until we reached the edge of the water, where the sand was hard and we could run side by side. I’d been getting fitter. Could match his stride, easy.

  First time I’d run on the beach. We’d run through the suburbs, parks and ovals and along little tracks in the patches of bush on the edges of town where it was steamy and hot. Murwillumbah was a hilly, shut-in town. When you could see the sky, you always saw that big mountain.

  The beach was empty. No one. Not even a speck on the horizon, not in this weather. The air was hazy with salt. Didn’t have to watch for uneven ground and tree roots. The sand felt damp and cool under my feet, sinking a bit under each step. Got into a rhythm and the wind blew my thoughts back behind me and I felt like I could run forever. Tom seemed to be in the same groove, pounding beside me, breathing steadily.

  Running usually settled me. Could get in that zone where nothing mattered. Even on a bad day, could
kind of leave things behind.

  Except today was a really bad day and I started thinking about Toby and couldn’t stop. Remembered the last time I was on the beach with him and how I’d ignored him and snapped at him and made him cry. And then the moment when we got home and he hugged me, even though I’d been mean to him. Even back then when he was alive, it was nearly more than I could stand.

  Sped up, breaking the rhythm, leaving Tom behind. Didn’t matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t go faster than these thoughts. Toby came right along too. I went into a sprint.

  In my mind I’d pretended Toby was mine. Was I crazy? I didn’t want to have sex with Laura Fieldman – but I wanted to be a father to my own brother? Didn’t make any sense. Ages ago I’d had this daydream that something happened to Mum and Dad and I was left alone with Toby. Just him and me. After a while he forgot about Mum and Dad, and I was everything. I was the centre of his universe and he was the centre of mine. We didn’t need anyone else. Couldn’t tell anyone that daydream. So weird. Don’t reckon even girls my age would daydream about having a kid. Boys wouldn’t.

  My breath was tearing at me by then, a stitch stabbing my side. I stumbled, caught myself, slowed to a jog. Tom pounded up at high speed, overtook me, slowed and stopped. He bent over, hands on his hips, gasping. I stopped next to him.

  ‘Not fair,’ he panted. ‘Too much head start.’

  Didn’t answer. My breath rushed in and out, in and out so hard it hurt. Tom straightened up and looked at me.

  ‘Christ, Jarrah, is it that bad?’

  That was it. Started to cry. Wanted to cry down there in the bush on my own after Laura had walked off and couldn’t. Now couldn’t bloody stop. Blubbing like a kid with Tom, making sounds I had no control of. Felt Tom’s arm around my shoulder, easy, like he wasn’t scared of making an arse of himself, doing or saying the wrong thing. Just saw I was hurting and wanted to help, and did it without thinking, and I never knew how to be natural like that. I was scared: the crying was getting out of control.