by Bill Condon
‘Never again,’ she declared. ‘I hate the tablets and what they do to me, but I hate being sick even more. I want to be well for you. I want to be well when Joan comes back — she rang me today, did I tell you? Wasn’t that kind of her. She cares about me.’
‘She’s your sister.’
‘I know, but she really cares.’
‘Me too, Mum.’
‘I know you do.’ She rubbed my arm. ‘That’s exactly why I’m taking those tablets. You don’t have to remind me ever again, Bri. I’ll take the rotten things.’
I knew she meant it, but she’d meant it every other time too. There was a pattern, a fevered pace that she got into.
‘You’ll see, Brian, you’ll see.’
Cooking special meals for her new diet. Exercise bike every morning. Yoga. Eight glasses of water a day … all so familiar.
‘If I can lose weight it’s going to make such a difference to me. Aren’t you proud of your old mum?’
‘Sure am.’
She honestly didn’t remember how many times we’d had that same conversation, and how many times she’d failed — which made her luckier than me.
I spent every afternoon with Emma.
‘It’s freezing in Canada right now. Minus twenty or something. I’m going to die!’
‘Then don’t go.’
‘Too late now. Sorry.’
‘You got plenty of warm clothes?’
‘Are you kidding? When I get all my gear on I’ll look like the Incredible Hulk.’
‘I’ll write to you if you like.’
‘Yes, please. I’d like that a lot, Bri.’
She looked at me with those kind eyes, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. That day at the beach was never far from my mind. I wondered if I was getting too close again, reading too much into that simple kiss on her birthday. Maybe she was looking for words to let me down gently.
‘I’ll only write once or twice,’ I said. ‘Just to let you know how Zeb’s doing.’
Another look. An eyebrow raised high.
‘Bri Talbot, if you write to me and only talk about Zeb I’ll never speak to you again. You’re a writer, so write. I want real letters, that I can keep for my old age. Funny. Warm. Interesting. Memorable! Are you up for it?’
‘Give it a go.’
She held my hand.
‘You write to me, Bri. Anything at all. It’ll just be good to hear from you.’
I was a pricked balloon when I got back home to Mum. I moped around looking lost.
‘Emma will be home before you know it,’ she said.
‘Yeah.’
‘I made chocolate crackles, Bri. And Anzac biscuits. I’m not having any myself. Just for you.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
She tried so hard.
* *
She even got out Aliens for us to watch together, one of my favourites.
‘But it’s horror, Mum. Please don’t watch it. You’ll have nightmares.’
‘Nonsense.’
She blocked her ears, covered her eyes with a pillow, got up to go to the toilet or put the kettle on — any excuse at all. Just for me.
On the back of the toilet door she pinned little notes to herself: ‘Feelings are not facts’, ‘Be positive’, ‘Dare to dream’, ‘Smell the roses’. I knew the notes amounted to just a bandaid that would keep Mum together for only so long. But how I hoped I was wrong …
‘I should see your mum before I leave,’ Emma said.
‘Why? She’s only met you once.’
‘Because it’ll make her happy, Bri.’
Fair enough.
We found Mum reading the paper on the verandah.
‘Hi, Mrs Talbot.’ She gave Mum a disarming smile. ‘Remember me? Emma.’
‘Of course I do.’
Mum looked awkward as Emma stepped forward to greet her.
‘My clothes are dirty — I’ve been digging in the garden.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
Emma hugged her and Mum shut her eyes and hung on, savouring the closeness.
‘That’s lovely,’ she said as Emma let her go. ‘Come inside. Can you stay for a little while?’
‘Sure.’
‘Good. It’s so nice to see you again, luvvie.’
Mum led the way into the lounge room.
‘How have you been?’
‘Busy. I’m off to Canada in two days’ time.’
‘That’s right. Brian told me that.’
‘But I couldn’t go without saying goodbye to you.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet …’
Emma’s kindness brought out a side of Mum I didn’t see often enough. Softer.
‘Brian, where are your manners?’
‘Huh?’
‘Offer Emma a drink. Something to eat.’
‘She didn’t come here for a picnic, Mum.’
‘Yes, I did, Bri. Do what your mum tells you.’
I pretended to be hurt, hanging my head lower and lower as I trudged from the room. Mum grinned, the demons far, far away.
Mum and Emma talked for an hour, about the student exchange program, about Canada, and of course about how cold it was there. Then Emma listened intently as Mum explained minute details of her diet and exercise plan and her new improved outlook.
‘I’m also getting a new job,’ she said, full of enthusiasm. ‘I’ve filled out that many application forms, they’re coming out of my ears. No luck yet, but it’ll happen.’
Emma quickly agreed. ‘You’ll get something — you’ve got a lot going for you.’
Mum touched her hand.
‘You’re such a sweetie.’
Finally at the front door, a lingering farewell hug, like old friends.
‘You be careful over there, won’t you, Emma.’
‘I will, Mrs Talbot.’
‘Please — it’s Ruby.’
I walked Emma back to her house.
‘You coming to see me tomorrow, in the paddock?’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘We can run through Zeb’s feed — you still want to feed him?
‘Yep.’
‘What if he snorts at you and charges?’
‘Then he’s horsemeat.’
She burrowed her head into my chest.
‘Tomorrow, Bri.’
Emma rode up on Zeb as I climbed through the fence. She looked so tall up there. So happy.
‘Hiya, Bri.
‘Hi.’
I took a carrot out of my pocket.
‘For me?
‘Go away! Get your own dinner.’
I dropped the carrot on the ground in front of Zeb.
‘It’s all yours, fella.’
Emma groaned.
‘Oh, Bri, you don’t do it like that. When will you ever learn? Twit. You’re not feeding a chook. Now pick it up and let him eat it from your hand.’
‘My hand? What if he decides to eat my fingers?’
‘I’m waiting.’
‘How about I give you the carrot and you can …’
‘I’m still waiting.’
Groaning myself now, I picked up the carrot and held it way out in front of me.
‘Okay, Zeb. Here’s some food. But be nice.’
Emma nudged Zeb’s belly with her foot and he stepped closer. At first he looked at me, not the carrot. He licked his lips.
‘Are you sure he’s a vegetarian?’
Chomp.
‘Your hands are shaking.’
Chomp.
‘No, they’re not.’
There was only a short piece left. Emma slid down from Zeb and took the carrot from me.
‘Here you go, Zebbie.’
She almost put her hand right into the horse’s mouth as she fed him.
Chomp. Chomp.
‘All gone.’
She slapped Zeb’s rump and let him wander.
‘Now you know his food’s kept in this drum, right?’
‘As long as I don’t have
to feed him carrots by hand we’ll both get on just fine.’
‘You mix these two feeds together, like I showed you. Dad will buy some more in a few weeks.’
‘Got it.’
‘And always make sure the water trough is full.’
‘Got that too.’
‘You know what … after all this time of counting the days’ — she leaned against a rail — ‘I almost wish I wasn’t going tomorrow. I mean I want to go, but I really like hanging out with you. You’ve grown on me, Bri — like a wart!’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Will your dad help out with your mum if she gets sick?’
‘Probably. But she’s not going to get sick.’
She put her arms around me suddenly, and held me so tightly. I felt tears streaming down my face. Stop it, will ya? Stop it!
I started mumbling an apology but Emma put a finger to my lips.
30
‘Hey, Dreamy. Get yer arse into gear, boy. We gotta unload this trailer.’
At work that night I was floating. It would have been a good place to get off the world.
I knew nothing would ever top that day.
‘Do you want to come back to my house? Dad doesn’t get home for hours.’
My heart was pounding even then.
‘Dreamy, you gunna help us unload this trailer or what?’
Her hair smelt like apples.
‘Dreamy! Oi! Move yerself!’
‘Right. Sorry, Eric. I was thinking about something else.’
‘Aw yeah, and what might that be?’
I’d never tell him in a thousand years.
‘Well?’
‘Nothing important.’
I wheeled the trolley like a robot as my thoughts returned to Emma.
‘Back to your house?’
‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Maybe it’s not such a good idea anyway.’
‘No, I want to.’
We walked side by side, but both so alone, not talking or touching. I don’t know about Emma, but I was terrified every step of the way.
She led me into the kitchen.
‘Want a sandwich, Bri?’
‘Sure.’
A peanut butter sandwich. That’s how it started.
‘You’ve got a bit on your chin,’ she said. ‘I can fix that.’
She licked it off.
It was a game at first.
‘Aw, thanks! That’s really hygienic.’
I pushed her down. Giggling and tickling.
And then suddenly she was looking at me in a different way. I would have had to be blind and stupid not to understand precisely what was on her mind.
We kissed. Better than any daydream kisses. She took off her top. I couldn’t stop shaking.
‘Don’t worry, Bri. It’s only me.’
‘I’ve put the jug on, Bri. You havin’ one?’
Norm’s voice jolted me back.
‘Yeah. That’d be great.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘You can make one for me while you’re at it. Milk and two sugars, thanks.’
I opened the cupboard to get the coffee. Norm shooed me away.
‘Only kidding, Bri. Sit down. I’ll make it.’
A tiny light bulb clicked on way back in my mind. Huh? Norm had never made me coffee before. I didn’t think any more of it as I sat down, my thoughts still floating to Emma.
‘Hey, I reckon you’re right, Normie.’
‘It is for sure, Ekka.’
‘Hey, Superstud. Get yourself over here and check this out.’
I looked up and saw them huddled around the doorway, staring at me.
Bob nodded.
‘Yep. No doubt about it. That’s a lovebite.’
Oh no!
I jumped out of the seat and found a mirror. My neck had a big red circle on it.
They were all grinning.
‘It must be some sort of an insect bite,’ I said. It was pathetic, but I had to say something.
Norm sat beside me.
‘You can tell us, Bri. We’re your mates.’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
He shuffled closer.
‘It won’t go any further. Now, did you and this young lady get down to the — shall we say — nitty gritty?’
‘Did you root ‘er?’ asked Eric.
I got up and shoved the seat back under the desk.
‘You blokes are all sick. I didn’t do anything with anyone. Got it?’
Bob stroked his chin, then nodded.
‘Congratulations, lad. You’re a man now. Well done.’
‘So you think he did it, Supers?’ asked Norm.
‘Hundred per cent.’
‘I didn’t!’
‘Well, stuff me dead,’ said Eric. ‘The old Dreamy, eh. Just goes to show yer — anything’s possible.’
I covered the mark with my hand.
Norm pulled it away.
‘Don’t hide it, Bri. That’s a medal of honour you got there. Wear it with pride.’
‘It’s an insect bite, Norm. That’s all it is.’
‘Of course it is. We believe him, don’t we, Ek?’
Eric’s answer was to dash out to the dock where two or three vendors were loading their trucks.
‘Hey, you lot,’ he announced.
‘No, Eric. Don’t.’
‘Dreamy here lost his cherry today.’
‘I did not!’
‘Got a lovebite the size of Godzilla. Check it out.’
The vendors peered at my neck.
‘He’s kidding. It’s a mosquito or something. I don’t know how it got there. You’re mad, Eric.’
The vendors were impressed.
‘Good work, son.’
‘You’ll never forget today, will yer?’
‘Always good to get the first one out of the way. There’ll be no stopping you now.’
‘Thanks a lot, Eric.’
‘No problem, Dreamy. She got a sister?’
All night long he kept at it.
‘Hey, pally, you heard the news? The young fella got his end in. Yeah. First time. She must have been real desperate. Love bite the size of …’
But after a while I didn’t mind any more. I stopped denying it, and stopped hiding the lovebite.
‘You have to go, Bri. Dad’ll be home soon.’
‘Just let me hold on to you a few more minutes more,’ I said.
‘I’m still not sure about things Bri. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I can wait.’
‘But what if it doesn’t happen again?’
‘I’ll still wait.’
The blokes at work were right, I never would forget that day.
31
There was no time to sleep when I got home, just a shower and a change of clothes.
Mum dropped me at the railway.
‘Say goodbye to Emma for me,’ she said.
‘I will.’
The train was so slow. It stopped at every station.
Hurry up — I’m not going to make it!
I ran up the steps and kept running through the terminal, frantic.
‘Over here, Bri.’
Emma waved. So did her dad.
‘Sorry. Sorry.’ I was breathless. ‘The train was hopeless. I left home in plenty of time but —’
‘It’s okay, Bri.’ Emma’s arm was around my waist. ‘As long as you’re here.’
‘So what do you think about our girl leaving us?’ her dad asked.
‘I hate it. It stinks.’
‘My thoughts exactly, Bri.’
We sat together in a long row of seats, near people reading newspapers, people sleeping, people wondering how to say goodbye. It was raining.
‘Listen to it come down,’ her dad said. ‘They’ve been predicting a storm and boy have we got it.’
Emma glanced at her watch.
‘Not much time left before I have to board, Dad.’
He smiled pleasantly, missing the point.
‘Good for the gardens though. And the farmers certainly need it.’
‘Weren’t you going to the newsagent, Dad?’
‘No.’
‘Da-ad.’
‘Oh. Right. I see. Yes. I think I’ll go the newsagent. I forgot that you two might want to talk. All right then … back in a few minutes.’
‘I don’t want any mushy goodbyes, Bri.’
‘That’s fine with me. See yer later.’
I started to walk away.
She dragged me back.
‘Don’t you dare go.’
‘Only kidding.’
‘This is serious.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.’ Then Emma cried.
I’d had plenty of time to prepare for that day — even came up with a list of things I could say. But in the end they were all too hard. It was much better just to hold her. That said it all.
We clung to each other, me holding on more tightly for sure, but I know she was there too, in the moment with me — just me and Emma, and the whole airport suddenly still and empty …
‘Are you going to be all right, Bri?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I’ll ring you. I promise.’
‘And I’ll write to you — memorable letters.’
‘And you’ll let me know how your mum is?’
‘Yes.’
I caught a glimpse of her dad approaching. Emma did too.
‘Guess I’d better go.’
‘I hate to break it up,’ he said. ‘But they’re calling for your flight to board.’
Emma hugged and kissed her dad.
‘Love you.’
She hugged me one more time. Kissed my cheek.
‘Take care, Bri … I’ll be thinking of you.’
Then she walked through the barrier and out of sight, without once looking back.
At work that night I could think of nothing else but Emma. I had to face the truth. She didn’t love me or she would have said it. Come on, how could she love you? But she was being honest. I couldn’t knock her for that. And maybe she was still deciding. Maybe there really was a chance. But maybe she was just being kind all the time. Only kind.
‘Come on, pally. No good walking around with yer head up yer arse over some sheila. We got work to do.’
‘Go easy on the boy,’ Bob said. ‘He’s in love. Haven’t you ever been in love, Rattlehead?’
‘Bloody oath I have. Every sheila I ever been with’s heard that — “Jeez, I love yer, darlin’.” Yer have to say that or yer got no chance with ‘em. Right, Normie?’