You Don't Even Know

by Sue Lawson

  Of course they were – sucking up so Dad could replace the rowing captain with Ethan.

  “I have to pick up Harvey from rowing at ten,” continued Mum, “so I can give you a lift to the pool.”

  “That’d be good. We’ll walk home though.”

  Mum turned to face me, eyes solemn. “Alex, about yesterday. The essay …”

  I slammed the spoon into the bowl. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Mum sighed.

  Mia slipped her small hand into mine as Mum drove away from the rec centre. Everything – essays, Dad, De Jong, Ethan’s crap, Bash and Coop hanging out with Amado – slipped from my shoulders and fell as grey sludge to the gutter.

  19

  NEUROSURGERY HIGH DEPENDENCY UNIT, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL

  “How’s it going, champ?”

  It’s easier to open my eyes today. The physio – Ben? Andy? I can’t remember – is by my bed. His thick neck, rounded biceps and broad chest scream health and fitness. I barely feel alive.

  I raise my hand to acknowledge him.

  “We’re sitting up today.” He rubs his hands together. “Slow and easy, champ. Sing out if you’re dizzy or in pain.”

  We’re sitting up? What he means is, I’m sitting up – something I took for granted until now. “Yep,” I croak.

  The physio whips back the bedspread and sheets before I have time to adjust the hospital gown. I fumble to pull it down. As he leans forwards to help me, I strain to read the identity tag around his neck. Brent.

  Brent slips his hand behind my shoulders. “Nice and easy …”

  20

  ALEX

  “Nice and easy, Mia. Relax.” Mia became heavier in my arms. “Attagirl. Now, let your legs float.” As her toes bobbed near the surface, I glanced at Tilly, who stood on the pool deck, watching.

  She smiled and gave me the thumbs up. “Now move backwards, but stay squatting.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Just do it, Alex.” Mia’s toes bubbled the water as we moved around the pool.

  “She’s a natural, like you, Alex.” Tilly waved before moving to patrol another area of the pool. Lifeguards have to keep moving around the pool, but every few minutes, Tilly would come back to us.

  When I promised to teach Mia to swim, I hadn’t actually thought about how I’d do it. Sure, I can swim and I’m a lifeguard, but that’s a whole different thing to being a swimming teacher. Lucky for me, Tilly was rostered to work.

  Tilly had been on the front desk when Mia and I arrived at the pool, so I started by showing Mia stuff I’d seen swim teachers do. Splashing, blowing bubbles and kicking. All easy for Mia. Before long, she was nagging me to take her into the bigger pool.

  That’s when Tilly came onto the pool deck for her turn to supervise. Tilly standing over us, calf muscles stretching as she rocked on her toes, scanning the pool made concentrating tough. Her shorts and runners without socks made her tanned legs look even longer.

  Somehow though, I pulled it together and followed her instructions. That’s why Mia was now floating with my help instead of lying stiff like dried seaweed.

  I released Mia’s head and backed away. She tensed a little, but stayed floating.

  “Hey, look up.” Tilly snapped pictures with my phone and pressed the screen. “I’ve sent them to your mum and dad so they can see what a great swimmer you are, Mia.”

  I groaned. Mum – sure, but Dad?

  Mia beamed, stiffened and started to flounder. I grabbed her and coaxed her back into a float.

  After an hour, Mia had lost interest in learning to swim, so we stuffed around on the slide and pretended to be mermaids before heading to the family change room to shower and dress. While she stood under the shower, her pink swimmers puddled at her feet, Mia gave me a run-down of why fairies don’t ride unicorns. A complicated business if Mia’s story was any indication. While she chatted, I checked my phone for messages. Three.

  The first was from Mum.

  You’re so clever, Mia! Xx

  The second from Dad.

  Clever girl, M! A, did you finish the essay?

  The final one was from him as well.

  Be out the front in five.

  My thumbs danced across the keyboard. S’ok, thanks. We’ll walk.

  Already here.

  I sighed. “Hurry up, Mi. Dad is here to pick us up.”

  Dad was parked in a disabled parking spot at the rec centre entrance. Ethan opened the passenger door and bellowed, “Hurry up!”

  I’d buckled Mia into her car seat when Dad pulled out of the park.

  “Alex hasn’t got his belt on,” bellowed Mia.

  “It’s okay, Poss. He’ll do it up.” Dad’s watched me through the rear-view mirror.

  I took my time easing the seatbelt over my shoulder.

  “Did you have fun, Mia?” asked Dad.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So, Dad, do you reckon that new guy, Tran, has what it takes?” asked Ethan, as though Mia and I didn’t exist.

  “He does have a good work ethic,” said Dad.

  Head resting against the passenger window, I stared at the car at the traffic lights beside us. The driver chatted to kids in the back seat. They were all smiling.

  “Guess what I can do, Daddy,” said Mia.

  “What, Poss?”

  “I can float and go down the biggest slide.”

  “Wow, that’s terrific Mia.” Dad eased the car forwards.

  “Tran’s height could be an issue,” said Ethan, an edge to his voice.

  Mia’s shoulders slumped.

  “Mia blew bubbles while she held the pool wall and kicked,” I added. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it, Dad?”

  “You bet. You’re clever, Mia. When you start school, you can have real lessons.” Dad shot a smile at Mia over his shoulder and glanced at me. “Did you finish that essay, Alex?”

  “Yeah. Friday. And emailed it. After I reread it.”

  “Good work.”

  “Anyway, Dad, Tran’s height,” said Ethan.

  “Oh, right. Look, if he works hard on his upper body strength, he may be able to compensate.”

  I glared at the back of Ethan’s fat head and reached across the seat to hold Mia’s hand.

  “You did good, Mia.”

  21

  NEUROSURGERY HIGH DEPENDENCY UNIT, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL

  Voices rip me from a cottonwool sleep into a harsh, fluorescent world. My sight is as fuzzy as my brain. When I focus, two people stand beside my bed – sunshine nurse, Jenny, and a woman I haven’t seen before. She’s not wearing a nurse’s uniform.

  Words slip through the haze.

  “He’s too heavily sedated for that. Wait until he is on the ward.”

  “I understand your concern, but I need to make contact, to build a rapport with him.”

  My mouth is drier than I can ever remember. I work to draw moisture into it.

  “See, he’s awake.” The woman looms over me. She has lank brown hair and wears a blue and tan floral shirt. Glasses with green frames hang from a chain and bounce against her big breasts. “Hello, Alexander. My name is Melinda. I’m a psychologist.” She thrusts out her hand to shake mine. When she sees my right arm’s in plaster, she busies herself pulling a chair close to my bed.

  “I’m Alex.” I croak.

  Liquid is poured into a glass. A hand slips behind my shoulders. Jenny helps me drink.

  Melinda opens her folder and smiles. Even though I’m hazy, I can spot a fake smile.

  “So, Alex, can you tell me what happened?” asks Melinda, hands clasped on the open folder.

  “No.” My head is sodden.

  She writes in the folder. “How were you feeling before the … accident?”

  My head goes from sodden to painful. I move to try to ease the pain.

  Jenny tuts. “He’s not up to this.”

  Melinda’s lips purse. “Jenny, you can leave us, thanks.”

  The ache in my head
builds to pounding. The light is needles jabbing my eyes.

  “Tell me about your sister, Alex.”

  “Clear off, Melinda.”

  Her startled face and huff remind me of Mum …

  22

  ALEX

  Mum stood at the kitchen bench, wearing a Masterchef apron, studying her iPad. She pushed hair off her forehead.

  “Hey, Mum.” I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.

  “Alex. Where have you been?”

  “Shopping, remember? With Tilly.”

  Mum nodded and began grabbing pans from the drawers and stacking them on the stone bench.

  “Where are the others?” I asked, looking at the empty family room.

  “Your father is at golf, Ethan is studying and Harvey has taken Mia to the playground to give me space.”

  Golf – figured. Ethan studying. Right! Messaging. And Mia and Harvey at the playground? That would end in tears.

  “So why do you need space?” Juice spurted from the apple as I bit into it.

  Mum glared at me and pressed both palms to the stone bench. “Tonight’s dinner party. With the Blairs and Alsops. Remember? Your father arranged it last week. I’m sure I told you.”

  I’d either not been told that, or had wiped it from my memory because if I’d known Dad’s golf buddies were coming over, I’d be on a tram, any tram, travelling around the suburbs until the service stopped for the night.

  Dad, Adrian Blair and Carl Alsop together in one room was more a blood sport than a social event. The whole night would be about who had the flashiest piece of new jewellery, whose kid achieved the highest score/won the biggest competition/was the greatest success, and who owned the newest piece of techno-wizardry. And then there were the kids. Stuck up, pains in the arse. I’d rather spend the night with Ethan than with that lot.

  “Alex,” Mum paused to make sure she had my attention, “you will be joining us.” She banged a baking tray on the bench for emphasis.

  “Yeah.” I took another bite of the apple and watched her read the recipe again. This time she followed the words on the screen with her finger. She looked up. “You’ll wear something … nice, won’t you? Clean.”

  Sometimes Mum was insulting. “Because I’m such a dirt bag.”

  “Your father wants us to look our best.”

  “Course he does.” I craned forwards to read the iPad. “What are you cooking?”

  “Antipasto for starters, fillet of beef with tomato concasse, garlic butter, string beans and chat potatoes. And for dessert, fig and caramel cake with custard.”

  “TV chef menu?”

  “Damn!” Mum slammed her hand on the bench. “I forgot to buy figs.”

  “So that’s a caramel cake with custard then?”

  Mum flung her apron on the bench and snatched her keys from the hook by the fridge.

  “Back in a minute.”

  23

  NEUROSURGERY HIGH DEPENDENCY UNIT, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL

  I snap awake. My head is clearer and the room comes into focus faster. Each of the beds in the room is separated by thin curtains made from the same blue material as the bedspreads. From what I can see, I’m the only one awake. The others are lumps, rising and falling, attached, like me, to I.V. stands. The machine beside my bed starts to beep. A nurse hustles in and presses buttons.

  Mr Dobson arrives with younger doctors. They remind me of simpering subjects surrounding a fairytale king. They stop between my bed and the one opposite.

  Maybe if I close my eyes, they won’t talk to me.

  “Jeremy, what is the latest?” His voice is firm but gentle.

  There’s a rustle of papers. “These two are moving to room 302 today.”

  “Together?” A girl’s voice. “Mr Dobson, I can understand the two of them sharing a high dependency room, but a two bed room? I really don’t think it is appropriate.”

  I open my eyes a fraction. A small girl whose face is swallowed by enormous glasses is speaking. Mr Dobson picks fluff from his lapel. “I have reasons for my decision, Eloise, and if you cared to think about these patients and their circumstances, you would understand my thinking. Being a surgeon is not only about operating. It’s about caring for the whole person.”

  The girl’s face reddens. “I think–”

  “They will be moved today. Into the same room.” The surgeon folds his arms. “Continue, Jeremy.”

  The voices mingle and merge into a jumble of noise and black …

  24

  ALEX

  Black controls in my hand, I sprawled on one of the leather beanbags in the rumpus room. Harvey sat on the edge of the other one beside me.

  “Reckon we should get changed?” asked Harvey, as our players in the game moved in on a target. “Mum said we had to be ready by seven.”

  I glanced at the time on the DVD player. “Nah, it’s only six-thirty. Plenty of time.”

  “But what if the Blairs and Alsops arrive before – shit!”

  In a flash of orange and noise, all hell broke loose on the screen. Harvey’s player died. He flung the controls to the floor.

  “I suck at this game.”

  “We can play something different.”

  “Nah. Can’t be stuffed.” Polystyrene balls scrunched and squeaked as he shifted position. “Alex, can I ask you something?”

  “Course.”

  “How come you don’t row like Dad, me and Ethan?”

  “Dunno, Harv. I’d rather be in the water than on it.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “Swimming is …” I searched for the right words. I closed my eyes and could smell the chlorine and feel the tingle of bubbles against my skin when I dived into the water.

  “You gonna spew or something?” asked Harvey.

  When I opened my eyes, his face was so serious I laughed. “No, I’m not going to spew, idiot. I was trying to find the right words to describe why I like swimming.”

  His nose crinkled. “Can’t be that hard. I mean, I like rowing because it’s fun.”

  “Swimming’s fun, but it’s more than that. It’s like I can do anything in the water. Like I’m free and light, but strong too. The water washes away all the crap.”

  “Dad yelling at you and stuff?”

  “Other stuff. School, friends, you know. None of it matters when I’m swimming. Same with water polo, but the guys, they like me.”

  Harvey’s nod was slow. “That’s kind of how I feel when I play basketball. Like nothing else matters.”

  “Doesn’t rowing make you feel like that?”

  Harvey scratched his head. “It used to. But Dad’s so full on about it.” Harvey’s eyes widen. “Shit. Don’t … I mean, if …”

  “Relax, Harv. I won’t say anything.”

  He slumped back in the beanbag. “I know he’s trying to help, but …”

  Mia skipped into the room wearing a denim dress that was more like something Tilly would wear. Wisps of hair had escaped from Mia’s braided ponytail and her painted toenails sparkled. She crossed the room and wriggled against me, thumb in her mouth.

  I wrapped an arm around her. “You tired, Mi?”

  She pulled out her thumb with a squelch. “Nope. Mum said I had to stay up here while she finished setting the table.”

  “Should we go help her?” asked Harvey, not moving.

  “Nah, she’ll yell if she wants us, won’t she, Mi?”

  “Yup!” Mia slipped her thumb back into her mouth. “Let’s wait here.”

  25

  ROOM 302, NEUROSURGERY UNIT, PRINCE WILLIAM HOSPITAL

  “Right, Alex – phone is on the cabinet beside the bed.” Jenny holds a white control in front of me. “This works the light, lowers and raises the bed and turns on the TV. And the big orange button is the call button. Press it if you need anything. And when you are able to move about, the toilet and shower are over there.” She points to the closed door in the corner and places the control by my left hand. “Comfortable?”

  �
��Yeah.” Considering Jenny and another nurse had only wheeled me, in my bed, from one room to another, I didn’t feel any different.

  Still vague and sleepy.

  A rap on the door draws our attention. Melinda the psycho-psych creeps into the room. “Luxurious new digs, Alex.”

  “Melinda–” begins Jenny.

  “Just a few minutes, Jenny.”

  Jenny’s lips draw into a straight line.

  Melinda scans the room for a chair. When she can’t find one, she perches on the side of the bed. Pain sears my ribs. I gasp.

  “Move, Melinda,” snaps Jenny.

  Melinda scurries off the bed.

  The pain eases.

  “As well as a fractured skull and broken arm, Melinda, Alex has broken ribs.” Jenny’s voice is clipped. “I’ll find you a chair.”

  When Jenny returns with a vinyl-padded chair, Melinda settles on it like a nesting hen. “So, Alex,” she says, as though talking to a toddler. “Up to a little chat?”

  The stab of pain has drained my energy. The walls seem to move like curtains in a breeze.

  “Good,” says Melinda, even though I haven’t answered. “Is there anything you’d like to –?”

  “No.” My eyes are shut, but the world is still moving.

  “Okay – tell me about M–”

  A flash of white fills my head. I grit my teeth. “Don’t say her name.”

  Jenny steps out from behind Melissa’s chair. “Alex, what’s wrong?”

  “My head. My chest.”

  “We may have removed that drip too early, Alex. I’ll go organise pain relief. Melinda, you need to leave.” Jenny’s voice is firm. “Now.”

  Melinda huffs and puffs but leaves.

  But there is no relief strong enough for what I feel. I close my eyes …

  26

  ALEX

  I closed my eyes and stood under the shower. The warm water sluiced the chlorine and residue of the crappy school day from my skin. Beside me two kids about Harvey’s age kicked water from the open drain at each other. They reminded me of Bash and Coop.